All These Years
by perfectsmuttyvampire
Summary: It's been six years since the war, and Hermione is rebuilding her life on the painful wreckage of her old one. She's been through hell, but is one man about to put her back through it, or save her?
1. Chapter 1

_**TITLE: All These Years**_

_**SUMMARY: It's been six very long years for Hermione, since the war ended. Her relationship broke down in a public media storm, she's struggled with the death's of her parents and friends, and had a very public breakdown. Finally ready to get back to work, she's joined the Ministry, as the Head of the newest department, Educational and Legal Reformation. The man she meets there threatens the new life she'd built for herself. Hermione has far too many secrets left for Blaise Zabini to be finding them out, and she finds that this new, reformed Slytherin is something she doesn't know how to handle. **_

_**PAIRING: MAIN Blaise/Hermione, some Hermione/Bill, some Hermione/Harry, mentions Harry/Ginny, Ron/Lavender and others. **_

_**WARNING: Descriptions of mental health issues, some violence, some smut.**_

_**A/N: Well, Harry Potter lives again! It's been ages since I wrote any Potter stuff, so I've been casting around for something to do. You need to imagine they knew each other at school. That Zabini, after Malfoy, was her biggest tormentor. **_

_**The reason I don't write much Potter stuff is because it never, ever seems to get many reviews. Guys, I want one word, just to say whether or not you liked it. I do allow anonymous reviews, so please, please, just tell me what you think! It's really disheartening when you put effort into writing something and nobody seems to be reading it!**_

_**Anyway, rant over. Chaptered fic.**_

HPOV

It has been six years since the end of the war, and I will carry the scars forever. The four long scars, made by Greyback's claws as I ran from him are as fresh and pink as brand-new wounds. They always will be. They run from temple to hip, marring the right side of my face, narrowly missing mouth and eyes. The burn scar from the Unforgivable Curse Rodolphus Lestrange cast at me remains lividly dark against the fair skin of my left side. And then there is the emotional scarring. Only very recently have I stopped waking in the night, screaming in terror as Voldemort bears down on me. Yes, the emotional scars will take much longer to heal.

But it is time to get back to work, back to life. Time to stop grieving and hiding in the darkness of my own mind, and time to live, once again. I am taking up a brand new position at the Ministry Of Magic, Head of the Department for Educational and Legal Reform. I start tomorrow morning, and I have put out my outfit and brand-new robes. Pencil skirt, heels, bright red pretty ruffled blouse, with the "plain black, uniform robes, with Ministry emblem, available to order from Madame Malkins". I need to be busy again, with things to occupy my mind and time once more. A new Department, especially one so vital, will give me plenty of work.

The Minister, namely one Kingsley Shacklebolt, has briefed me already. I know where my office is, and what I have to do. First stop - I have to devise a law or strategy to build back up the Wizarding World. Whether that lies in education, the social sphere, or public sphere, is up to me. But I knew, even before Kingsley told me, that faith in the Ministry is at an all-time low. Whatever I propose must not, under any circumstances, antagonise people. There must be reform, and I see this. But I must tread carefully.

The world is hauling itself out of grief and darkness. It's as if as I woke up, so did everyone else. The Ministry is under pressure. Education is floundering, the legal system is no longer certain. Laws are no longer clear, rulebooks were hurled aside for the Death Eater trials. I know something must be done about Azkaban, and I may well have to call several trials again. I must show the people that the Ministry will act within the bounds of the law.

I go to bed early, and make sure my alarm is set and ready for six thirty precisely the next morning.

I get up, shower, dress and put on some mascara and lip gloss, charming the gloss to stay in place all day. I put some concealer on the dark circles under my eyes and contemplate the same for the scars, changing my mind when I realise that would be vanity. I leave my scars on show, and only leave my dark circles covered because they wouldn't be professional. I leave for the Ministry at seven thirty, arriving at seven thirty-one. I am greeted with enthusiasm and slight awe by several of the people I meet. I run into Seamus Finnegan, now Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and I tell him that I will have my secretary schedule a meeting for us. He agrees, and I move on, arriving at my office at seven-forty five precisely. My secretary leaps up and introduces herself.

"Ms Granger, I'm Anna. Anything you need, you can ask me for, from cups of tea to fetching people." She smiles at me, an easy smile, but with the same shadow in her eyes as almost everyone you meet these days. She has lost a loved one. I thank her, and continue into my office. It's spacious and comfortably heated, cosy with the fire in the grate and carefully controlled so that the room's temperature doesn't ever go past 23°C. I immediately remove my outer robe, and get down to it. I assess my priorities carefully. First thing's first - I must assess all pre-war laws and educational reforms. Look's like Anna will earn her first pay check.

"Anna, I need all pre-war laws, and all educational reforms. You'll need boxes A1 through to A9 for the laws, and boxes B11 to B13 for educational reforms. I need them on my desk inside half an hour, tell whoever is down in Records today that I want them immediately, and if they have an issue, they can take it up with me later today. But I need those files." When she brings them, she informs me that "Gary in Records" didn't have an problem, but his boss might. I can't remember who Head of Records, Legal History and Historical Artefacts is, and decide I don't care.

By lunchtime, my head is spinning. There are ancient Laws written down that have long since been discounted. Interestingly, I find one that makes it illegal to sell Firewhisky to anyone "visibly melancholy and/or in a pre-entry state of drunkenness." I think I may reinforce that one - many wizards and witches are finding that Firewhisky serves for a great comfort, and drunken brawls and duels are becoming more common. Yes, that one is going on the "keep" pile. It'll need a bit of re-wording, but I won't have to fill in any paperwork to enforce it.

And then I find the one that makes my blood run cold. I call for Anna, who comes in immediately.

"Ms Granger?"

"Anna, I have a question to ask of you. Naturally, you are sworn to secrecy. Anything that happens inside my office stays inside the office."

"Of course, Ms Granger."

"Good. Look over this Law, tell me what you think." There is silence for a while, during which I learn she can skim read, which adds points to her.

"I may speak freely?" At my nod, she lets go. "It's barbaric and inhuman. After everything everyone has been through, there would be rebellion if -"

"I quite agree, Anna. If you would be so kind as to message the Minister - no need to go yourself, simply send a missive, and ask him to schedule me an appointment to see him. And then message the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, ask him to come and see me as soon as it is convenient for him. Don't worry - they pass this law over my dead body." She smiles tremulously and departs. I ponder her reaction. I wonder how pure her own blood is, and if she'd be on the better side of a Marriage Law. I re-read the parchment in front of me.

"Under orders of the Minister for Magic, Fildelius Ignatius Gormann, a Marriage Law is to be introduced in an attempt to cut down the number of Squibs produced. We recognize that most Squibs are produced by inter-Pureblood marriages, as many Pureblood families are now inter-related. We therefore set out a proposal that all young wizards must marry a witch who is of either Pureblood or half-blood, or Muggle-born, who will be chosen by the Ministry. Wizard's may decline their partner once, but must remain with the second partner. Once the Wizard has received notification of his partner, he must confirm to the Ministry, and the chosen partner will be notified. Once both parties have been informed of their match, the marriage must take place within two months, or both parties will be arrested. Once married, one non-Squib child must be born within two years. Marriage's are legally binding.

Kingsley sends back word that I can see him immediately, while Seamus says he can make it at five, but no earlier. He too, is overwhelmed by work.

"We've got a problem, and I have to be sure we're discussing it in private, Kingsley."

"Hermione, sit down. Whatever's happened?"

"I was going through all the old Laws, both still in running, and formally negated. I found this. I have spent an hour looking for all appropriate paperwork, and it doesn't exist. This Law, Kingsley, technically still stands."

"Which is it?" I hand the parchment to him, and he raises his eyebrows. "What do you need me to do?"

"Negate it. Formally abolish the Law, before anyone apart from me, you and Anna find out that it even existed, let alone still stands."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you? This is not a solution, Kingsley, this is rebellion on a sheet of parchment. I will not allow such a Law to remain in circulation. Our position is bad enough and the people do not deserve this Kingsley. I will not impose this on them."

"I could order you to."

"You won't, though. You know, and I know, that this is bullshit. Take it out of circulation, Kingsley, legally, or I will, and my way will be decidedly illegal. And when it's out of circulation, when it's illegal and safe, release a statement to the press, announce that we have negated an old and outdated law. The public will respect us for it, and it'll give us brownie points to introduce some laws they might not like."

"I wasn't aware you were working for Press Liaison too."

"I can get Luna to say it if you'll prefer."

"Are there any heads of Department's you don't have willing to do more or less whatever you say?"

"Probably not."

"I'll do the paperwork today. You can talk to the press by Friday."

"Thank you, Kingsley." I have my hand on his office door when he speaks again.

"Hermione, how are you? I mean, really?"

"Kingsley, I am the same as I was during the war. I'm coping."

Well, I'm coping until I hit my office. I walk past Anna and she's slamming at her keyboard with a face like thunder.

"Anna, I can't ask the Budget staff for a new keyboard on my first day on the job."

"He wouldn't listen to me. Dismissed me like I wasn't even human! Stupid Purebloods, just because I'm Muggle-born think they're so superior."

"Anna, I will sort this. Who is it?"

"Head of Records, Legal History and Historical Artefacts." She says it like there's bad taste in her mouth. I cross her outer office, and I fling the door to my office open and take breath to begin the tirade. It doesn't come. My breath leaves with a gasp, and to my pleasure, my temper leaps up multiple notches.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Anna, where is the Head of Records, Legal History and Historical Artefacts?"

"This _is_ the Head of Records, Legal History and Historical Artefacts. And if he speaks to me like that again, you'll probably have to find yourself a new secretary, because I will be tried for murder."

"Anna, why don't you go get us both- as in you and I - something very sweet and sugary, and bring me back a cup of very strong black tea. By the time you return, he will be apologising to you for any and all inappropriate remarks made." She departs, and I slam my office door, with force. "This had better be really good, Zabini, because you didn't catch me on a good day." I'm glad I had the sense to pack everything up before I left, and Conceal it. I don't trust anyone any more. Least of all Blaise Zabini, who I believed had fled the country with his bitch of a mother, to avoid being identified as a Death Eater. Son of a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

HPOV

He's sitting in the guest chair across from my desk, looking fabulously cool and calm.

"Hermione -"

"Nothing on this earth gives you the right to call me Hermione. It's Ma'am, to you."

"We're the same rank."

"It's Ma'am. Now either state your business, or get the hell out of my office. And while you're telling me what you want, you can explain why my secretary may need to be bailed out of Azkaban if she ever sees you again." While I'm talking, I take my own seat, and start organising papers. I get a fresh parchment and quill, and make some notes.

"What's that you're writing?"

"A memo to me, reminding myself to draw up the plans for a law against racial insults, Zabini. Now, as I said, what can I do for you?"

"You have some things that belong to my Department. I merely wanted to know if you could tell me when I would get them back."

"When I'm finished with them. It may be days, it may be weeks. And that is bullshit. That sort of thing, you Message to me. In fact, that sort of thing, your secretary would Message to my secretary. So, unless you came up here simply to insult my secretary, which you will apologise for, or I will have you fired, and please don't think I wouldn't. Do remember that the Head of Human Resources is a very old friend, and I would only have to say the word Mudblood to have you removed. So, I will ask you again, why are you in my office?"

"I wanted to say hello."

"I am not in the mood for Slytherin games, Zabini."

"It's true. I wanted to say hello, and sorry."

"Sorry? What for, Zabini? What for?"

"For everything I ever said to you in school."

"Which is a null and void apology, as you've said the same thing today. For which you still have to explain to me."

"She got up in my face. Said I had to stand outside and wait for you."

"She had a valid point."

"I don't have to answer to secretary's."

"She's my secretary, acting on my orders. When I am out of my office, she is me, in effect. And telling you to stay the hell out of my office doesn't warrant being called a Mudblood."

"She acted like she owned the fucking Ministry. It just slipped out."

"I don't care. You will apologise to her, you will say it sincerely. And get out of my office, before I have you ejected from it."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me. We both know I'd win a duel. I could beat you second year, I can definitely beat you now. I will remove you either bodily, or by magic, or you can remove yourself. Our conversation is over. Do try and keep out of my way."

He gave Anna a charming little apology, which she accepted, just barely. She gave me some Pick and Mix, and it brought a genuine smile to my face.

"I haven't had these for years." I peek, and my eyes widen. They're Muggle sweets.

"There's a WH Smith's just around the corner. They had a counter, I thought you'd like the gesture. Nothing used to cheer me up like Pick'n'Mix when I was younger. My mum hated me getting them, but once a month, she gave me two pounds to spend there. I always got gummy bears, cola bottles, jelly buttons, jelly beans, and barley sugar. I got you the same, I don't know what you like."

"I like all of them, but I'll trade you my jelly buttons for your barley sugar."

"Done deal. And here's your tea. I made it myself, the tea they serve in the canteen is disgusting. I've got myself a charmed teapot and some PG Tips in my desk drawers," she says, conspiratorially, smiling at me.

"Well, I have got an open fire and I brought bread, butter and Marmite, so I could have lunchtime toast. It's bit of a ritual. Would you care to join me?"

"I would love to, Ms -"

"Hell, call me Hermione."

We pass a pleasant half an hour, before Anna announces she has work to do. I agree that I too, have work that must be done, and continue to wade through all the old Laws, finding some that are so long outdated, the parchment that abolition was written on is probably worth something. I'm happily chewing on a jelly bean when Seamus appears. I have divided my office into five stacks of paper. The Laws that I want to keep, and are still active. The Laws I want to reinstate. The Laws I don't want. The Laws I have to make inactive. The maybe pile.

"Jesus, Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Sorting through five hundred years of Wizarding Law. I could go further back, but my therapist at St Mungo's has told me I should get out more."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I -" Hmm. No chair. My chair has boxes on it.

"Don't worry, I'll stand."

"Yes. Obviously, our departments are going to have to be working closely together. And I need favour."

"What have you got?"

"Gummy bears," I say, waving the bag.

"Done. What can I do for you?"

"Your Department ran the trials. I need the files for all Death Eater trials conducted after the War."

"Hermione -"

"Seamus, I need them. I have every reason to believe that some, if not all, of those trials were wrong."

"So what are you going to do, release them?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. But I need to know that those trials were conducted within the bounds of the Law. Now, I have uncovered a very interesting Law here. As you know, there has been some questioning of the trials. They were held in secret, with no jury. And as you know, technically -"

"It's illegal. The rule-book went out the window, people were angry, wanted revenge."

"It might not have been illegal. Three hundred years ago, the Ministry passed a Law declaring any witch or wizard charged with sufficient evidence with crimes against humanity could be tried without a jury. Unless the paperwork has got lost in the system, that Law was never revoked. It technically still stands. All I have to do is sign a form, and have you and the Minister counter-sign it, and it will be reintroduced."

"You said it was never revoked."

"It wasn't, but as it has been inactive for over one hundred years, it must be formally reintroduced into the legal system. However, they would have to be re-tried, because the Law was technically inactive. I filled those forms out the minute I realised what I was holding. All you have to do is sign them, and get me the case files, and we will make legal history. No Law has ever been reintroduced, in all the years of recorded history."

"And we will be seen as minor celebrities."

"I'm not interested in that. I'm interested in justice."

He signs them, as I knew he would. The case files will be on my desk by morning, and I will begin the lists of trials to be recalled. The press are going to have a lot to publish, come Friday.

When I get in the next morning, I am informed by the pale and trembling Anna that I have to see the papers. I don't read the papers any more, having seen myself on the cover's one time too many. When Ron and I broke up, when I was accused, wrongly, of trying to sabotage the Ministry, when I spoke publicly in Severus Snape's defence, when I was called a Death Eater sympathiser. And finally, two years ago, my public descent into a mental breakdown. When Harry came to my house and found me in my bath tub with my wrist's slit and a Blood-Thinning Potion next to me. I came round in St Mungo's, drugged and restrained, and raving about the war and the hell I was in. I don't read any paper's now.

_**GRANGER TO INTRODUCE MARRIAGE LAW**_

_A Ministry plot was today revealed by an inside source. It implicates Ms Hermione Granger, former member of the Golden Trio, and newly appointed Head of the Department for Educational and Legal Reformation, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt and Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Seamus Finnegan. It is rumoured that the three plan to introduce a marriage law, that will see wizards formally chosen a partner for marriage and forced into matrimony. Our source could not reveal any details, but warned us that Granger was close to signing the documents that would make it legal. It is another mark against the Ministry in the growing loss of confidence in their competence._

I slam into Kingsley's office, ignoring his frantic assistant who tries to stop me.

"This is bullshit."

"I know, Ms Granger. This is the Editor of the Daily Prophet, Charles Hawtree, I do believe you have met, and obviously, Luna."

"Mr Hawtree, I do wish I could say it was good to see you again, but as you are aware that my dearest wish is to hex you into the next century, why don't we skip the formalities. What the hell did you think you were playing at?"

"Ms Granger, this article was run without my knowledge or approval -"

"So you aren't in control of your own paper? For Merlin's sake, Hawtree, it was on the goddamn front page. There is no way you could have overlooked it."

"This was meant to be the front page. It's a piece to welcome you to your new job, and celebrating your complete recovery. When I approved this last night, this wasn't the front page I OK'd."

"Who wrote it? Whichever one of your reporter's wrote it, I want their head on a silver platter, and I want the name of their "source". Are we clear, Hawtree?"

"Crystal, Ms Granger."

"Excellent." I slam back out of his office and storm past Anna, who gets up from her chair.

"Hermione, it wasn't me. I never said a word."

"Don't worry, Anna. When I do find out who knew, and who talked, head's will roll."

BPOV

I contemplate today's paper over my coffee. My assistant knocks, and brings in my post. There's a message from Hermione's secretary, telling me that Hermione should be done with some of the files by the end of today. I sit back and think about our meeting. I hadn't expected it to go well, and it hadn't. She'd been angry, and bitter, and hard. I got a shock when I saw her scars for the first time. The burn on her arm paled in comparison to the four identical claw marks on her face, that disappeared down into her blouse. Of course, it had been well known that Hermione had been severely injured by Fenir Greyback during the Final Battle, and pictures of her scars had been published, both during the aftermath, and the trial of the Death Eater's. Of course, she'd had to release a careful statement to the press, when the rumours about bites had started. She said she hadn't been bitten, and she was not a werewolf.

I was shocked at her candour and ice-queen demeanour. Hermione Granger was never cold. She could be removed and aloof, but she was never cold. Yesterday, I saw what war, loss and hopelessness had done to a brilliant and caring witch, and I didn't like the picture it had painted.

But the last note, hand-written and only two lines long, shocked me.

_Zabini_

_I've got to go over all the files from the trials, and I have discovered something I must discuss with you. If you could come and see me? And if you so much as look at Anna wrong, I'll hex your balls off._

_H. Granger_

_Head of the Department for Educational and Legal Reformation. _

Short, to the point, and restricted. It projects professionalism, and the ice-queen persona she's perfecting. I'm not busy, so I go up immediately.

Anna tells me Ms Granger is in her office, and shows me in. Hermione looks up and I notice tiny fine lines around her eyes. She's old before her time, looking ten years older than her twenty-four years. Twenty-four, I realise, and she's already lived a lifetime. Her eyes are dead and flat. I realise that part of Hermione Granger died in the War, and that she will never fully recover. Just like her scars, she will never heal. And looking at her, I know that she hates me.

"You asked to see me?"

"We are recalling the Death-Eater trials."

"What?"

"We are recalling the trials. They must be done legally."

"They'll get a jury?"

"No. There will be no jury, but this time there will be no jury legally. They will be private, not the circus they were last time. The Wizengamot will not preside. Instead, the court will be made up of the Minister, and the Head's of all Ministry departments. I am telling you first because Draco Malfoy's trial is one of the one's we are recalling. So I, off the record, am giving you a choice. I will not insist you are there for his trial. I know you used to be friends."

"You are going to flout the law so I am more comfortable." She is silent, the only sound in her office the scratching of her quill. "Why would you do that? I made your life hell, and you are going to let me out of his trial because we were friends. I would have thought you would have wanted me to suffer."

"I do, Zabini, I really do. My head is screaming at me to put you through hell. But my heart, what is left of it, won't let me do that. It's up to you. His trial will be the first. Feel free to put in for sick leave."

"No, Ma'am. I want - I need to be there."

"Suit yourself. That was all, thank you."

"Ma'am, just so you know, he was never really my friend."

"Zabini, just so you know, I don't care anymore. I don't care about any of it. I don't care if you were friends, lovers, or deadly enemies. I don't care anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

BPOV

When I got home, got changed, settled with a book and a whisky, I found myself thinking about her. Her denial about caring shook me to the core. That used to be Hermione Granger's trademark, the fact that she cared. She doesn't care now, and that frightens me. Again, I suspect that the paper's saw the surface of her breakdown, the surface of her failed relationship. They saw that it had happened, but they didn't see it beyond that. They didn't see that the old Hermione died with Alistair Moody, Fred Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and with her parents. And I know that every man she killed still haunts her. Avada Kedavra does something to the person who uses it, whether they do it in self-defence or not. For Hermione, I expect it rose into her mind, and I know that there are dark corners of it that will be forever waiting to take over, like they did two years ago.

I know it because it happened to me. I can read Hermione Granger because what she does, what she says, the expression in her eyes is the same on that is forever written on my own face. I know that the depression is forever whispering, always waiting for you to despair, and watching for it's moment to sneak back in. before you know it, you spend whole days in tears, whole days seeing face after face.

There are tiny lines around Hermione's eyes. A map of suffering. I haven't got lines yet, but there are threads of grey appearing in my hair. I dye it, vanity sneaking in. I tell myself I do so because if I didn't, it would be easy for the dark beasts of depression to take back over. But deep down, I know it's vanity. It makes me ashamed when I look at Hermione, who hasn't tried to disguise the lines, hasn't tried to hide her scars. She carries them, not with ease, they look like they are a physical weight, but she carries them with her head held high. I don't recognise this Hermione.

And yet, at the same time, she's familiar. I knew she could carry herself under anything - God knows, I never made life easy for her, but she kept her head in the air anyway. I knew she was clever and she could be devious when she had to be - Dumbledore's Army had been her idea. I knew she could fight. Second Year duel club, she'd knocked me on my ass. And I know she could do it again. When it all came out after, what they'd all gone through looking for Horcruxes, I'd sunk so far into a pit of depression it'd added a full year to my recovery. How could she have been so brave? Bellatrix Lestrange and torture, and Hermione hadn't told her anything. So yes, I recognize that she's still tough. But I don't know this type of Hermione. This is too tough, too cold, too distant.

Hermione has lived the majority of her life in the eye of the media. One of the Golden Trio, that was inescapable. She had carried herself with grace and professionalism, cruising interviews and questions. But after the war, the press had become rabid about her. It was probably made worse by the fact that she was the only one of the three of them with actual scarring from it all, and the fact that Harry retired from it all immediately, taking Ginny Weasley with him, and completely vanished, Hermione making sure that he wouldn't be found unless he wanted to. Ron kept a few steps from the limelight, and besides, the Weasley family had a restraint against the press. So Hermione was left to the wolves, and from there on out, she would be followed, photographed, hounded and reported on. When her relationship with Ron broke down, it was gleefully reported, although it was never clear who finished it. Speculation made for several weeks of gossip. After that, Ron more or less disappeared, joining his family in the safety of the restraint against the press. Hermione was trying to get one, trying to seize her privacy back, but things were being ignored, and she was eaten alive. And then it happened.

She was admitted to St Mungo's after a suicide attempt, and spent six months strapped to a bed. That was when Harry reappeared, with a fury nobody had anticipated. The day Hermione was released from St Mungo's only one reporter was waiting for her, and that was the one Harry had approved. She was never hassled again. I look down at the book in my hands and a jolt of surprise goes through me. It's the biography of her. The official, Potter/Granger approved biography. Released last year, it made Ginny Weasley's name as a respectable, reputable writer. I didn't realise I'd picked it up. I remember buying it - the Prophet had shouted about it for weeks, it got rave reviews from test readers. Almost on a whim, I picked up a copy in Flourish and Blot's that same week.

I turn to the bit that made me cry the first time I read it - the interview Hermione gave to Ginny, word for word, heartbreaking sentence by sentence.

_GW_: How are you feeling, Hermione?

_HG: _Oh, you know, Ginny. I'm coping with it.

_GW_: What are you coping with exactly?

_HG_: With survival. With still being here.

_GW_: Hermione, can we talk about your suicide attempt?

_HG_: We can. I felt so helpless. I was being followed everywhere by the press, like they were all waiting for me to do something amazing, and I couldn't take that. I always said that I wanted to leave all that hell behind me, and they wouldn't let me. And I felt so guilty. Why should I have survived, when we lost so many people? Why should I have lived, when I lost my parents, Fred, Alistair, Remus, Tonks? What gave me the right to survival? I was on the very edge of what felt like a huge precipice, and I was afraid to fall, but afraid to step away from it, because I'd lived on that edge for so long. I didn't know what to do if I wasn't forever teetering, caught between danger, and safety. Always threatened, never protected. I chose to do what would keep me there. I knew that if I died, it would all be over - I wouldn't feel so guilty any longer, and I'd see my parents again. And if it didn't work, I'd still be where what I knew - hanging onto the edges. It sneaks up on you, that was the worst thing. One day, I was coping, just about, just coasting through, not really seeing anything. The next day, I had the potion in one hand, the razor in the other.

_GW_: Hermione, do you want to still do this? We can do this another time.

_HG_: No, I need to do this now.

_GW_: OK, Hermione. What do you have to say about the rumours that you blame Harry for everything?

_HG_: That's rubbish. I never blamed Harry, or anyone else, for the choices I made. They were my choices. I chose to be his friend. I chose to go with him when we went after the Horcruxes. I chose to go back to Hogwarts, and I chose to fight. I chose to defy Voldemort. And at the end of it all, it was my decision to attempt suicide. Harry never put that razor and that potion in my hands, Harry's got no blame in all this. Harry is the man I owe my life to - who we all owe our lives to. For me, I owe him my life several times over. He saved me in so many ways, from a Basilisk, from a werewolf, from Voldemort, from Bellatrix Lestrange inside the Ministry, from Voldemort again, from Bellatrix again, from Voldemort again, from Death Eaters, from death itself. No, Harry is not to blame.

_GW_: Who is to blame?

_HG_: Nobody is to blame, Ginny. Perhaps I could lay my grief and depression at Voldemort's door. Perhaps I could lay it at Ron's door. Perhaps I could lay it at Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, for all the taunts in school. But that would be shirking responsibility, and I have never done that in my life. No, there isn't anyone to blame for all this.

_GW: _OK, well, lets talk about the rumours that you've been offered a job at the Ministry, once your health is restored.

_HG_: I've heard nothing, that's just one more rumour, like the rumour that I'm the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Let's not talk about press rumours Ginny.

_GW_: Can we talk about the press itself, as in all the hassle they gave you?

_HG_: It was like being in a damn cage. My God, I never appreciated how animals in the zoo felt. I felt so damn violated. Nothing was mine anymore, nothing was fucking private. Everything I did, everything I said, they were there for it, and the twisted it, screwed it round, so suddenly I was the bad guy. And then with Ron, when all that went to hell, they were there for that. I couldn't even get upset about Ron, because they were eating me alive. I couldn't even grieve in private after the war. They crashed my parents funerals, for God's sake. Nothing was sacred to them. It was like being followed by a pack of rabid dogs. No, it was like Fenir Greyback all over again. That bastard toyed with me before he gave me these [gestures to scarring caused by Greyback during final battle]. That was what it was like, Ginny. Being fucking played with before the final act. I want them to know that if they'd just let me live my life, accepted that I didn't want to be this poster girl for the Light, didn't want to be an idol or a war-hero, that I just wanted to be Hermione. I can't say for sure, but I think things would've happened differently.

_GW_: Are you saying that if the press had left you alone, you might not have attempted suicide?

_HG: _I don't know for certain, and we can't say for certain. But maybe. Maybe if I'd been able to grieve, if I'd had my privacy, I wouldn't have felt so desperate.

_GW_: Are you sure you're OK to do this, Hermione?

_HG: _Yes, yes.

_GW_: OK, Hermione. Here, for heaven's sake, have a tissue. Let's get Harry to make us some tea, shall we? It's alright, Hermione. I know this is painful for you.

_HG_: I'm sorry I couldn't save Fred, Ginny.

_GW_: Oh, Hermione, you've got no blame in that. You couldn't have done anything. Mia, nobody blames you for Fred's death, for anybody. You did the right thing all along the line.

_HG_: Sorry I'm sort of ruining this interview.

_GW_: Mia, don't be silly. It's your interview, we'll talk about whatever you want.

_HG: _I want to talk about Fenir Greyback. I need to tell people why I don't hide my scars.

_GW_: Alright. In your own time. Calm yourself down a bit first.

_HG_: I'm calm, Ginny, I'm OK. I can do - oh, thank you Harry.

_HP_: Not a problem, Mione. Look, I'll sit here, hold your hand, alright?

_HG_: Thanks, Harry. I keep my scars on show because it'd be vanity to cover them up. They're here to stay, and they won't go anywhere. They are, whether I like it or not, a part of me. And I wear them for every single man, woman and child who died at Voldemort's hands. They are a memory to them, a nod to how very lucky I am to still be alive. I won't hide them, like I'm ashamed. Like I'm not going to hide the fact that I still have very black days, days when I still question why the hell I bother to keep fighting on, and days when I feel so crushed by grief I can't breathe. My scars are a memory. My scars are not everything I am, but they will help me keep going. Because this is who I am, and that isn't going to change. I am Hermione Granger, survivor, victim and a memory. I'm no different because of my scars. I'd still be Hermione without them.

_GW_: Hermione, I'm going to wrap this up for today. No, don't you argue with me. No more for now. I've got plenty here.

_HG: _Ginny, can I say one last thing? I just need people to know that there is life after war. There is hope, light at the end of the tunnel. There's always hope.

I dash the tears away impatiently. And I end the night like I began it. I think about her, and wonder what she's thinking, doing. I wonder how much hope she still holds out.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Draco Malfoy is ordered into court."_

The voice is the booming, slow resonance of the Minister for Magic. Beside me, Blaise's hands tighten on the rail. I did give him the option. He doesn't have to be here. Escorted by wizards, chained hand and foot, Draco walks into the room. He is much, much thinner than six years ago, and the straight spine and sneer that I always associated with him is long gone. Azkaban has all but destroyed him.

"The charge against you is as follows. You, Draco Malfoy, are hereby charged with being a Death Eater, attempted murder, and murder. You are Draco Abraxius Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, deceased?"

"I am." The voice that answers Kingsley is expressionless and flat.

"How do you plead to the charges laid against you." This time, there is a tired and exhausted smile.

"The same plea as last time. Not guilty."

Malfoy junior has protested his innocence ever since the first trials. While Lucius pleaded guilty and was damn proud of it, Draco always insisted he was innocent. Always denied everything. The knot of hatred in my belly tightens further.

"Defendant pleads not guilty. Hermione Granger is now called to give witness." Blaise stands to let me aside, and I go down to the floor. I feel two sets of eyes on me - silver and black, one boring into my spine, the other making my ears burn as he stares down from above. "Miss Granger, please confirm name and address."

"Hermione Jean Granger, Number three Donovan Drive, Godric's Hollow."

"Miss Granger, you will answer all questions truthfully and by the laws of the court, you will take Veritaserum to confirm these truths." I drink quickly, grimacing at the slight burn.

"You are Hermione Granger, Number three Donovan Drive, Godric's Hollow being your current address."

"Yes."

"Tell us about the final battle. Tell us about the Room of Requirement, and the battle with Draco Malfoy and his companions, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe, deceased."

"We had to find the last Horcrux, the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. We went into the Room, the Room of Hidden Things, but Malfoy was there already. We couldn't find it. Then we got it, and Malfoy said 'Very good, Potter, and give that to me'. He looked terribly tired, and he looked afraid. Harry argued, and Ron shot a spell at Crabbe. Then Goyle fired the Killing Curse at me."

"So it was Goyle, not Malfoy, who fired the first fatal curse, which obviously missed?"

"Yes, as I said in Draco Malfoy's original trial. Draco Malfoy, to the extent of my knowledge, has never used the Killing Curse. Goyle fired the curse, Harry shot Cruciatus at him. I shot a body bind at Crabbe, which Malfoy blocked. The next thing I knew, Crabbe had cast the spell for Fiend Fyre. Ron grabbed me by the neck and pulled me onto a broom. Harry went back for Malfoy. We could not save Crabbe. He died. The fire destroyed the last Horcrux."

"Miss Granger, can you tell the court what happened when you escaped the Room."

"Malfoy cried."

"Do you believe, Miss Granger, that Mr Malfoy is capable of killing, or ever using the Killing Curse."

"No. Draco Malfoy is a lying, cowardly snake, but he is not now, nor will he ever be, a killer."

"Do you believe he was wrongly imprisoned and accused?" The silence in the courtroom would rival that of a graveyard, the beat of my heart the only sound I can hear. I grit my teeth, but the Veritaserum forces my answer, truth in every nuance.

"Yes."

"Of all charges? Is he innocent of all charges?" Kingsley roars over the noise that has erupted like an angry dragon. For my answer, I go back to Draco, pull back the sleeve of his right arm. The skin is unmarked. "But at the last trial -"

"A Dark Mark will fade if applied to one who pays only lip service. Draco Malfoy is innocent -" and here I have to pause. The question demands an answer, but it is not that simple. Yes, innocent of the chances, but innocent? No. I remember every single time he taunted, slapped at, insulted and degraded me. And I know, that if I were not under Veritaserum, I would lie, and declare him guilty, and have him put away from the rest of his life. "Draco Malfoy is innocent of the charges laid."

BPOV

Uproar would be the only way to describe what happened next. Half the court were on their feet, and the chains released Draco with a clink. I stare down at the man I once called friend, and the woman I once went out of my way to torment, and I know which I have more respect for. She is shaking the Veritaserum away, and then she sends Draco a look of out-right loathing. She despises him, I know, and I also know that she would have lied and seen him sent back down. But despite that knowledge, I respect her. Kingsley eventually restores order. Draco and Hermione are still standing at the front, Draco staring at Hermione with the wildness of a madman in his eyes, and Hermione is watching Kingsley.

"Draco Malfoy, under the laws of the wizard world, and this Ministry of Magic, you will be assigned to a departmental head. You will not be trusted with a wand for a year, after which time you will attend a hearing. If we decide you are trustworthy, you will once more be granted a wand, and free to go. If you are found to be untrustworthy, or if you commit any crime between now and that time, you will be permanently banned from having a wand, and you may also be imprisoned. Do you understand and agree to these terms?"

"I do."

"You will be taken from here to a Ministry safe holding house. You will be guarded. Tomorrow morning you will be escorted to the Ministry, and given over to the departmental head to whom you have been assigned. Case closed."

Of course, nothing is ever that simple.

HPOV

"Kingsley, have you lost your mind? What in the name of Merlin am I going to do with a Wandless assistant who I despise? I've got an assistant. I've got all the help I need in the shape of departmental staff. What will he do, sit in my office all day?"

"Hermione, what he does is entirely up to you. Give him to Anna, she could probably use a pair of hands. And I know you need another PA. Anna's run off her feet."

"Since when have you called her Anna?" I demand, and watch him squirm for a few minutes.

"Hermione, it was the decision the Wizenmagot made. What better person to watch him than Hermione Granger?"

"Kingsley, I despise him."

"You are professional enough not to let that affect your work. Besides, I doubt he'll give you any trouble. You got him out of Azkaban."

"I know. And I did that because of the Veritaserum. You know that I would have sent him down, that I would have lied, if it hadn't been for that. And he knows it, and that entire room knew it."

"Hermione, please, just for once, do as you're damn well told. You could save a life today." I'm halfway to the door. I pause, swing round, and look Kingsley straight in the eye.

"Shame it isn't a life I particularly want to save."


	5. Chapter 5

HPOV

I try very, very hard to be professional the next morning. He isn't here when I get into work.

"Anna, I am expecting a new assistant today. Please inform me the moment he arrives."

"Is it Draco Malfoy, Ma'am?" Perhaps she's detected the bad mood.

"Yes. Inform me when he gets here."

"Yes Ma'am. Your mail."

Note from Kingsley: he implores me to be both professional and polite. I can do professional, Kingsley. But you should know better than to ask me to be polite to him. But I will do my best to be professional. Also a note from Seamus, asking if I'm done with the drafts.

"Ms Granger, he's just arrived. Shall I show him in or find him something to do?"

"Show him in, Anna." And in he duly comes, looking little better despite the fact that he's had a shower and is now clean - and looking immaculate, at first glance, as he once did. But then I look again. Clothes are too big for a frame that is now far too thin, they are slightly worn, and fine lines seam around his eyes. I expect to feel satisfaction, but I just feel empty as I look into his eyes.

"Hermione Granger," he says, quietly.

"You will address me as Ma'am or Ms Granger. You will report directly to me and only to me. If I or Anna give you an instruction, that instruction will be followed to the letter. Don't speak unless spoken to. Stay out of my way when I'm busy."

"Yes, Ma'am. And may I say thank you?"

"For what?"

"Getting me out." I look into his grey eyes. I stamp hard on the feeling of pity.

"I did that because I was under Veritaserum. If I had had my free will, I would have sent you straight back to Azkaban."

"I know."

"Then why are you thanking me?"

"Because like the Dark Mark, Ma'am, Veritaserum can be fought off, if the person taking it truly wants to lie. Someone as powerful as you could have thrown that off. You didn't - and so I thank you."

"You've changed, Malfoy."

"So have you, Ma'am." I look at him sharply. "I didn't mean physically. I meant that you're different. The old Hermione - the old Hermione would have given me a chance at the original trials. I'm not blaming you, and I'm not rebuking you. But it's true." I laugh, and even I can hear the hollow sound.

"The old Hermione? Malfoy, the old Hermione is dead. Dead and buried, right alongside everyone I lost. Don't speak to me of who I used to be. Times have changed, and so, it transpires, have we. Anna will find you something to do for today. Filing or errand running I expect. Close the door behind you, won't you?"

Kingsley drops by at lunch-time.

"How are you?"

"Kingsley, you really must stop doing these supposed casual calls. I am a very busy woman and I have a great deal to do this afternoon. Seamus wants the draft of the new law on the banning of arranged marriages on his desk for review by close of play tonight, and that does actually require a lot of paperwork and writing to be done. As I have to do it all by hand, that is going to take me an extended period of time. Now, ask what you originally came to ask, and then please, I implore you, leave me to get on with my job."

"How're things going with Mr. Malfoy?"

"As well as can be expected. He's working with Anna today, I have no use for somebody hovering in the office. All that means is that I have yet more work to do thinking up a job for him to do. So address your question to Anna, please."

"Hermione, you're pissed off, I get it. But like or no, this was the decision of the Wizengamot, and neither you nor I have the power to overturn that. I trust you haven't hexed him."

"Get out of my damn office."

I send Draco with the packet containing the draft of the law. He may as well make himself useful. The escort is waiting when he returns. His face drops noticeably, and it wasn't as if he was smiling before. I realise that it isn't pride that makes his shoulder slump a little further, and his face crease into a frown, but instead it is acceptance. A bitter pill to swallow in the better of circumstances, when one is forced to accept something, it is near impossible to bear the shame and humiliation. I know what I should do. What I should do is reach out, shake his hand, say that I'll see him Monday, smile. But the words stick like stones in my throat, the smile twists to a scowl on my face and my hand clenches to become a fist.

He's right. The old Hermione would have been a big enough person to reach out. The new Hermione is torn, between hate and regret, between hate for him and all he stood for; regret that the old Hermione reared her head and insisted upon being all noble and forgiving during the trial.

Back at home, I look at the Muggle sleeping pills and the vials of Dreamless Sleep. I kick around the pros and cons of drugs over three hours of spotty sleep. I choose the drugs. I take too many sleeping pills and wash them down with too much potion. I know I've got a problem. It's been weeks since I even tried to sleep without them. Crutches, I think, bitterly, shedding my clothes and collapsing into bed. Thank god, thank god it is Sunday tomorrow, thank god it's my day off. I can sleep until the pills and the potions wear off, and tomorrow night I'll take the prescribed dose of each to get eight hours sleep. Crutches I tell nobody I need, crutches literally nobody knows about. Not even Harry is aware of how much I take.

What have I become?


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Severus Snape is alive in this story.**_

On Monday morning, I take one look at myself in the mirror and am instantly aware that no amount of Muggle make-up will stop me looking like hell. Dark rings have taken residence beneath my eyes, my skin is almost translucent, I'm so pale and that makes the circles look like bruises. I look and feel like I've gone ten rounds with a boxer.

I'm getting ready to go, finishing up my orange juice when there is a light knock at the door. I know that knock.

"It's open, Harry," I call out, and in he strolls, looking much like the kitty that managed to get the cream. Crookshanks winds once around his ankles on his way from my room to the sofa.

"Morning, Hermione." He hugs me tightly, then snags the pitcher of juice and a clean glass. He pours out, then puts the jug back in the fridge when I shake my head to a refill. "You look tired."

"You liar, I look like absolute hell."

"Bad night?"

"Yes."

"Nightmares?"

"Yes. Bad ones. Didn't get much sleep."

"You've got Dreamless Sleep for that, surely."

"Took it, it isn't working."

"Owl Severus -"

"He's got better things to do -"

"If he's got better things to do than help out the woman who saved his life then I need to have a word with him. You know he'd drop everything if you needed him."

"I do know, which is precisely why I won't be telling him. I have to cope on my own, Harry. And don't even think about telling him. And what are you doing here? I have to go soon."

"I just came by to tell you the good news."

"If Molly is throwing another get-together, I am moving to Siberia."

"No but she'll be throwing a party soon. Ginny," he says, smiling widely, "is going to have a baby."

"Oh, Harry, that's wonderful!" I say, genuinely smiling at him. "When?"

"Well, lets see, it's October now, she's about a month along - June sometime. Just thought I'd alert you first, I'm going to see Ron next - Ginny has bravely volunteered to tell Molly."

"You liar. Again. You said you'd tell me and Ron and then left before she realised that meant she had to tell Molly."

"You know me so very well. How's it going at the Ministry? With Draco?"

"Your sources will never cease to amaze me. They are going as well as they could possibly go."

"Fair enough. You're off now?"

"No peace for the wicked."

"Indeed. I'll get back to you on that in about eight months."

"Quite. Now, out of my house." He says goodbye before we Apparate off. I'm still smiling when I get into work.

Anna looks up when I come in. She smiles at me.

"I assume you're having a good day?"

"Indeed I am. Is there any mail for me?"

"Yes, quite a bit this morning. A few of them even look personal."

"Oh. I don't normally get much personal mail."

"Well, they weren't delivered by the Ministry mail service. I put a band around them."

"Ah well, maybe someone from the past just wants to get in touch but doesn't know my home address."

"Most likely. And Mr Malfoy arrived a moment ago - I sent him down to the Post Room with some messages."

"Ah, very good. Will you send him in to me when he returns? Unless you require him urgently?"

"No, not at all."

"Well, I have one or two tasks I'd like him to complete for me. Just send him in when he get's back."

"Of course."

I read the official mail first. It's general messages from various departments - Luna wants my final OK on the time of my statement to the press regarding the completion of the new Death Eater trials and the introduction of the Law I am planning to introduce to make Firewhiskey a dangerous item. Seamus wants various bits of paperwork on various bits of nonsense. Kingsley wants to see me regarding my newest plan. I turn to the personals and unbind them. To my relief, I recognize the handwriting on all of them. I do charms anyway, checking that no enchantments, hexes or curses have been used.

I'm settling down to read them when Draco knocks. He comes in, stands ready.

"Draco, you look like a puppy expecting to be whipped. Is everything OK?" I can't actually believe I'm saying it.

"Err, yes, yes, it's fine, you know, fine and … fine."

"Well, I guess that's a good thing. OK, I have one or two things for you to do for me today. When you've done those - I don't know what you will be doing. I hope you brought a book or something. First thing won't take very long. I want you to deliver this to Blaise Zabini, Head of Records, Legal History and Historical Artefacts. It's his last box. Take it directly to him, because my day is too short to be filling out the paperwork for a long and involved return. Also this note. I will shrink the box for you, Blaise can unshrink it."

"Very well."

"Come back here after that, the second task will take a little longer and is harder to explain."

"Very well."

"Here, one box."

DPOV

Well, it's nice to see her happier. It's easy to see the old Hermione when she's smiling cheerfully. She looks instantly younger, fresher, less tired and more invigorated. She seems to be more positive about everything. It's nice to watch her smile. Blaise's secretary accompanies her filthy look at me with a perfunctory knock on his door. I'm getting used to the death glares and the whispers behind the hands. But it still makes me feel like I'm nothing. I don't expect them to be understanding and I don't expect them to just forget. But it would be nice if they could just ignore me.

Blaise doesn't seem to know what to do with himself when I come in.

"Draco, I -"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, not you as well. Blaise, say whatever you have to say."

"I'm sorry." That was almost as unexpected as Hermione.

"Is there something going on?"

"Pardon?"

"Hermione was almost nice to me earlier. And now you're apologising, although God knows why."

"Hermione being nice. I hate that that surprises me. It shouldn't. And I am apologising because I was very nearly too much of a coward to even face you in that Court. Hermione gave me the option. Told me that if I wanted a sick leave the day they tried you, she would overlook it. Nearly took it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I got very, very drunk, read her biography again and had an epiphany of sorts. She does it every single damn day. She gets up, she comes in, she does her job, and she's carrying more than me. And I wanted to see you."

"We barely even spoke at school. Regardless of what people thought. Why did you care? You were home free. No trial, full pardon, and off to the South of France you went." He seems surprised. "Word reached even Azkaban."

"That's why I wanted to see you. I was innocent - I won't say I wasn't, because I'd be lying. I had nothing to do with Voldemort, whatever and whoever my mother was, and my God, I did what I could to stop you. I blame myself because it wasn't enough. Hermione wasn't almost kind earlier. She wanted to watch us both squirm and she did that because she does still care a little bit. You have few allies here. She knows it. The only people on your side are me and Hermione even if she doesn't act like it. A little bit of her? A little, tiny piece of Hermione Granger is fighting your corner. One day that piece will win."

He didn't say anything further, apart from telling me to come by when I could. I go back to Hermione's office, where she furnishes me with one list and some Muggle money, and dispatches me and Anna to a Muggle florist to buy some flowers, and arrange their delivery to Hermione's house. I wonder who they're for. Hermione doesn't strike me as the type to have flowers all over the place. When I get back, Hermione is in Anna's office, straightening her uniform robes.

"Anna, I'm just heading down to the Atrium, I have the press statement in half an hour. If any messages come hold them until I get back, but deal with any Missive's yourself. Oh, and if Seamus arrives before I return, which he shouldn't unless I am seriously delayed, tell him to wait in my office and get him a cup of coffee, he takes it black and plain. If you require Mr Malfoy for anything, send him along, but if there's nothing, he can just hang about I suppose. Draco, there are a selection of books in my office - on the off chance that I may one day get five minutes to myself, help yourself if you have nothing to do. Oh, and Anna, you won't forget to tell Kingsley that I shall want to see him before I go home?"

"I told the Minister an hour ago, you can go and see him anytime except between four and half past. I know how Mr Finnegan takes his coffee, I can deal with any Missives, I know what to do with your mail, and Mr Malfoy is more than welcome to hang about as long as he does it quietly. Don't be nervous, Hermione," she finishes softly. Hermione nods stiffly, then leaves the room.

"Press statement?" I ask.

"On the trials. And her new ventures."

"New ventures?" Anna looks at me.

"Hermione Granger is going back to Hogwarts next week."


	7. Chapter 7

BPOV

"Hermione is going back to Hogwarts." I look at him over the rim of my coffee cup.

"Good morning to you, too, Draco."

"I'm serious Blaise. She's going back to Hogwarts, to "properly assess the situation". Don't you read the papers?"

"I have barely been in the office two minutes. I haven't had a bloody chance. Anyway shouldn't you be with Hermione right now?"

"She's in a meeting with the Minister. Arranging the visit and so on. She sent me down to Post with messages and I made a detour. Just wanted to let you know."

"Why?" I say, glaring at him.

"Just thought you'd like to know. I have to go now."

"Oh no you don't. You tell me what your game is, Malfoy."

"I have no game."

"You do."

"Fine. You really want to know?"

"Yes, obviously," I say, dryly.

"She can't go back there on her own, she'll never cope with it. You know that the memories will descend on her, that the darkness will creep back in. She needs something else to focus on." I stare blankly for a few moments. He has that "I'm a trouble-making Slytherin and proud of it" look on his face. Then it clicks.

"Me? Draco, Azkaban got into your head, you're crazy."

"It's a good plan. You're the Head of History or whatever you do these days. Little research trip to Hogwarts - therefore, why not go with Hermione? That way, she won't be thinking about the memories as much - she'll be thinking about the terrible chore of spending a couple of weeks in your company. You get to keep your worried little eyes on her, and she gets a distraction. We all win. Plus I get out of this prison, and get to go back and get out for a while."

"There's always something in it for you."

"Obviously. Now, I really do have to go." He ambles out, content that he's dropped his bombshell and outlined his plan. And probably upset my plans.

He hasn't upset my plans, but he's certainly set me off thinking. Within an hour, I know what I am going to do. I get my secretary to Message the Minister for me, and have her request a reply before the end of the day. Adding that it is about a Departmental Research Trip, I stroll along to the Minister's office at eleven-thirty, put on my best innocent face and explain that I want to take a trip to Hogwarts to find and research a certain book I hear rumour of being in the library - a book on how to go about composing an Unforgivable Curse. Of course, I'm talking total bullshit, but he buys it. He asks me a couple of questions, mostly about where I heard the rumour, and I say I found it mentioned in some old papers. I also make it clear that it may be nothing, but it's worth checking out.

"Would you have any objection to a travelling companion, Mr Zabini?"

"No, Sir. Will I have one?"

"Well ,you might as well. Miss Granger is also intending to go to Hogwarts, to assess the situation so she may properly understand how she is to reform our much in need of said reform education system. Perhaps you've heard? It was in the_ Prophet_ this morning."

"I had not, Sir. No time to read the papers today."

"Ah, well, that is the situation. If you have no objection to travelling with Miss Granger, I will owl Minerva McGonagall, and arrange your trip there. How long do you believe this research trip will take? I believe Miss Granger intends to stay for two weeks - will that be sufficient, or will you require more time?"

"That will be more than adequate, Minister. As I say - it may be nothing."

"Yes, but we can't take the chance with that. Very well, I will inform Miss Granger, and arrange your stay with Professor McGonagall. Thank you, Mr Zabini."

When I regain the privacy of my office, I reflect ruefully that Hermione will probably kill me for this.

HPOV

I may kill him. I'm not stupid enough to think that it's purely coincidence that he suddenly wants to go to Hogwarts at the same time, and for the same length of time, as me. But oh no. what should be a nice simple assessment of circumstances is going to become one long headache. I can't avoid him there for two straight weeks. I'm going to have to be _sociable. _I want to put my head down on my desk and come up with some creative curses. Instead, I have a torrent of correspondence to deal with - from within the Ministry and outside. I open Minerva's letter first.

_Hermione -_

_I am pleased to hear that you'll be coming back to Hogwarts, even if it is to do a job. You will find us much changed, and considerably smaller than your time here. Whatever help you can do for us, we need it. It's no longer enough to simply rely on the influence of Hogwarts' reputation. We need the legal power of the Ministry behind us. We need allies. Of course, I'll brief you fully upon your arrival here in two days time. I hear Mr Zabini will be joining you. You and Mr Zabini will share the guest suite - separate bedrooms and bathrooms, but a shared common room. You are welcome to either join the staff for meals, or have it served in your room. I look forward to your visit._

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

I write my reply immediately. I feel compelled to correct her on one of two little details.

_Professor -_

_First, Blaise Zabini and I are not joining each other anywhere. We will merely be in the same place at the same time. _

_I cannot lie and say that I am looking forward to my return. Hogwarts, as you are aware, holds many demons for me, and it will be my greatest personal test to step back into the castle and face those demons. I am, however, looking forward to seeing yourself and Severus - sorry, Professor Snape - once more, along with other various staff members. As to having the Ministry behind you, I will personally ensure that you get as much support as you need from myself, and the Ministry. Kingsley Shacklebolt is both reasonable and sensible - and we at least know that he won't try and interfere. I would appreciate it if you could tell the staff prior to my arrival that I am not there to interfere in any way, I am there to help - although thinking about it, I will be rather interfering to an extent. I'm sure you can present that in a favourable light. If on arrival I could have a traffic-lighted system of the departments - red colour for those who require the most help, amber for those who need it in the near future, and green for those who want it, but could get along fine without. I hope you're well. _

_Hermione Granger_

_Head of the Department for Educational and Legal Reform_

_Ministry of Magic_


	8. Chapter 8

BPOV

We Apparate with sharp cracks in front of the Hogwarts gates. Hermione brushes down her smart robes, draws her wand from some hidden pocket, and summons her Patronus. I wonder why she's an otter?

"Tell the Headmistress that Mr Zabini and I have arrived." We wait in what Hermione is determined to make a stony silence.

"Any specific plans for the next fortnight?"

"Yes Blaise. Shockingly, I will be working."

"Yeah, but when you're not working. You can't work for two solid weeks."

"No, you are correct, indeed I can't. I will be catching up with old friends and acquaintances, and avoiding you. We may as well get this straight now - I do not want to be your friend, I do not want to get to know you, I have no interest in anything about you, apart from the simple fact that I have to work with you, and share accommodation for two weeks. I suggest you stay well out of my way, and we will get on just fine."

"Um - OK."

"Then we understand each other. Where's Draco?"

"He arrived an hour ago. May I ask a question that may infringe upon your afore-set conditions?" I thank the gods that looks can't kill. "He's with me for the fortnight?"

"Yes, he's all yours, unless I should need him, which is unlikely."

They send a carriage for us, and we climb in. Hermione puts her handbag on the seat next to her, and pointedly turns her back on me. Well, if I don't freeze to death on the way to the castle, at least there will be a decent meal waiting for us.

HPOV

Professor McGonagall is waiting for us in the Entrance Hall. Thankfully, the entire school is at dinner, which is in part due to the fact that people know that two people from the Ministry are going to be here tonight, and probably know that one of them will be me. Actually - I take back the thankfully.

"Welcome back, both of you. You must be hungry, so I'll take you straight through to dinner, unless you'd like to see your rooms first."

"I'll take dinner," I say.

"I'd like to freshen up," Blaise says. Thank you, Merlin.

"Well, Draco can take you off to your rooms, I'm sure. Come on, Hermione." He goes off, and we watch him out of sight with Draco.

"How are you, Hermione?"

"I'm alright."

"That's good. Look, Hermione, if you need anything during this time -"

"Minerva, I'm not going to top myself on this trip. Or try to. Please, don't worry."

"OK. Well, lets have some dinner. You are entirely too thin."

"You sound like Molly Weasley."

It's weird eating with people staring and whispering. Before dessert is served, and before I disappear beneath the table completely from sheer embarrassment, Minerva gets up and claps for attention.

"Students, as you have all noticed, joining us today are two members of the Ministry of Magic - Miss Granger and Mr Zabini. They are here to do a job, not to be stared at like zoo exhibits. Kindly concentrate on your food. Now, on an unrelated note - we have a guest joining us next weekend to run a one-off Quidditch session. It is open to all Houses, players or not, and will be run by Mr Potter. Thank you." She leans over to me in the ensuing babble. "Harry says I should tell you that if you aren't mad at him, he planned this, and if you are mad, he didn't."

"Sounds like Harry. Have you heard about Ginny?"

"Indeed. How did Molly take it?"

"Like Molly takes most things. She wants them to move into the Burrow, so she can fuss all the time. Ginny said she'd move to Siberia first, and Harry agreed. So they compromised on Molly going over once a fortnight. I avoid their house at those times."

"How's the Ministry been treating you, Hermione?" Severus says, leaning round from behind Professor Trelawney.

"Reasonably well. It's not too bad. Hard work, but it keeps me busy enough."

"That's good then. Going to drop by and visit me?"

"Maybe."

"I have perfected a new ginger-flavoured Butterbeer I need someone to sample."

"I'm in."

Minerva shows me to my room.

"Password's _Lea._ You and Mr Zabini - who is sharing with Mr Malfoy - have separate entrances leading to your own bedrooms, but you share a common room. And, Hermione - Severus asked me to give you this." She hands me a small package. "Staff meeting is tomorrow at three pm. As it's Saturday, I thought we could leave it until the afternoon. I left the information you asked for on your desk in there. Don't stay up all night, you get yourself to bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Professor."

"Oh please, call me Minerva."

"Then, goodnight, Minerva."

I put the package from Severus on the bed, and go over to my wardrobe, intending to unpack. But to my surprise, it's already done. Everything is hanging up in colour order, shoes arranged neatly on the floor, underwear in the top drawer, jeans and jumpers in the bottom and shirts in the middle. I thought I was the only one anally retentive enough to fold underwear and then section out the drawer. I go over to my desk. There's a neat file folder, labelled _Course Analysis, _and then a hand-written note.

_Hermione - _

_I unpacked for you. I hope you don't mind, but you looked tired when you arrived. I'm a bit obsessive-compulsive when it comes to clothing organisation, so I hope that's OK too. I figured you'd appreciate the helping hand, but feel free to yell at me if I went a bit too far. I promise I didn't look at your undies anymore than was necessary. I put your pyjamas under the left pillow - nice colour, by the way - and left your wash-bag in the bathroom. I swear I didn't look in that. Sleep well, and call me if you ever need anything. _

_Draco._

_PS: Nice work on that Undetectable Extension Charm._

I smile, I literally can't help myself. It's such a lovely thought, for him to give me a thought, and to make my evening a whole lot easier. I can take a bubble bath now, relax, maybe even give myself a manicure. I look down at my nails. They need it. I catch myself in that train of thought, and giggle to myself. When was the last time I thought about pampering myself? I can't even remember. Either Hogwarts is doing me some unexpected good - or Draco's thoughtfulness has cast a spell.

I go into the shared common room. Blaise is there, but no Draco.

"Have you seen Draco?" I ask, and the amiable tone makes even me shocked. He looks up, but doesn't comment. He gives me a smile, and gestures towards a door in the far wall.

"He's in there. Feel free to go on in."

"Thank you," I say quietly, and I like that it doesn't sound forced. He smiles at me again. I cross the room and knock gently on the door.

"Come in." Draco looks up when I open the door, and I'm momentarily hesitant. "Hey, Hermione," he says quietly, and I nearly wince when I hear the down-trodden tone in his voice.

"I came to say thank you - for the unpacking. Thanks for doing it, and thinking of doing it. And for organising it."

"My pleasure, Ma'am."

"Oh, don't," I say, suddenly. "Don't call me Ma'am, not here. Just call me Hermione. Please."

"Alright, Hermione."

"well, uh, I better go. I have some work to do."

"Hermione, wait." He crosses the room and pulls me inside, closing the door. "I need to say something. And you don't have to say anything tonight, and in fact I'd rather you didn't. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for every single time I upset you while we were at school together. I'm sorry for the Final Battle. And my God, if I could take back the times I made you cry, I would. I needed you to hear that. I don't have a reason, so I won't try to give you one. I'd only insult you further. But I'm sorry, even though that will never be enough. Now, don't say anything, just go and do your work, and find some time tonight to kick back."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: For this chapter, you need to imagine that Harry and Ginny were not together at the end of his sixth year.

I find that time he told me to take, purposefully locking my notes in a drawer, putting up a ward I will only be able to break in twelve hours time. I go into my bathroom, and draw in a gasp. Hogwarts has outdone itself. The bath is deep enough, long enough and wide enough for me to relax into it, up to my neck in hot water, lie back and close my eyes. There's a bottle of my favourite freesia bubble bath on the side - a Muggle product. Harry must have been scheming with Severus. I fill the bath, enchant the bubbles to stay as long as I want them too, and slide in. I heave a sigh of relief as tension I was painfully aware of slips off my shoulders. I would give someone chocolate if they'd massage my shoulders right now.

_His voice was like a caress in of itself. He'd walked in and caught me - for the first time, the Room of Requirement hadn't given me the privacy I'd asked for. I was relaxed in the bath, the haze in my head sliding down my body, pooling in my belly. I hadn't heard the door open, but his shocked gasp prompted my eyes to open lazily. Somehow, I didn't care that he was standing there, staring, while I was naked in the bath. It was the day the end of year exams had finished, and I was spoiling myself. I was too relaxed to even attempt to cover myself._

"_Harry, either come in or go, but whatever you do, close the door." He'd lingered for another second, before stepping boldly into the room and closing the door behind him. "As you're staying, perhaps you could do me a favour." I scooped my hair up, clasping it. "Could you give me a massage?" I heard his intake of breath, then his footsteps crossing the floor. His hands went to my shoulders - a Quidditch players hands, rough, callused, but at the same time gentle on my back, and they sought the tension and rubbed it away. I leaned into his hands, sighing. Looking back, I don't know why either of us made the choices we made. Perhaps we both knew what was coming, perhaps we knew that it was our last chance to let desire and lust rage for a time. His hands stroked my neck, no longer massaging. This was a caress, an outright expression of what would happen. If I had pulled back then, if he had, we would have stopped. But I turned, found his lips hovering a breath from mine, his green eyes meeting my hazel. It was permission for us both. His hands dove into my hair, tugging the clasp away, fisting my wet locks into his hands, dragging my lips to his. It was hot, hard, passionate - everything we'd ever felt was poured into that kiss. I dragged the shirt from his shoulders, my hands fumbling with his trousers. He enchanted them away, slid in, pushing me against the wall of the bath, laying himself against me. _

"_Hermione," he whispered, breaking our kiss, his lips tearing down my neck, his hands running from shoulders to breasts, cupping me in his hands. I gasped, my hips bucked, and I felt his hardness against my stomach. _

"_Harry," I gasped, rubbing against him. I didn't care what it might mean, what might happen because of it. I wanted him, I wanted to forget the world outside the door, all I wanted was for him to surround me with his touch. He lifted my hips, I wrapped my legs around him, held on as his eyes met mine. With a nod from me, our foreheads touching, his eyes on me, he slid inside. It didn't last long, both of us too agitated. It took one touch from him, a slight angling of my hips, a heated kiss and he took me hard and fast against the side of the bath. I came, gasping, clinging to his arms, and his head dropped to my shoulder as he hissed my name. we stayed like that for some minutes, waiting for breathing to level out, hearts to slow. We soaped each other in silence. We didn't need to say it. Both of us had needed something, and we had got it. It wouldn't be repeated or spoken of again. It was fine for us both. But he kissed me before we left, a lingering, gentle kiss. I felt him for the rest of that night, and slept better than I had in a long time. _

_And then we were leaving, going after Horcruxes, fighting and running, and there would be another encounter, more passionate and brutal that the time in the Room, and I would remember it -_

I jerk back to the present with a splash of water. I soaped myself slowly, washed my hair, dried off and dressed in my nightgown and robe before going back into my room, putting the package onto my desk. I sit on the bed, and brush my hair out. What prompted that memory to surface again? Being back at Hogwarts, in that situation? The most carefree I've ever been, coming apart in the arms of my greatest friend. I go to bed straight away, forget about potions and pills. I don't have even a hint of a nightmare.

I'm woken up by a knocking at my door. I scramble into my robe, call out for them to come in. Draco is bearing the most welcome sight in the world - a cup of strong, hot black tea, and a glass of grape juice.

"Have you only just woken up?" he says, lightly, and there's a slight teasing tone to his voice. It isn't a tone that annoys me, instead it makes me laugh a bit.

"You woke me up, to be accurate. What time is it?"

"Eleven fifteen. I assumed you'd be awake by now, I'm sorry. I brought you tea and juice. I've learnt a bit about your habits recently. They've stopped serving breakfast, but the Headmistress said you could get whatever you wanted from the kitchens when you woke up, or wait for lunch."

"Eleven fifteen?" I splutter, looking at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"I slept for thirteen hours. I think that might be the best I've slept in - well, the best I've slept in six years."

"Maybe this place is doing you some good, Hermione. I told you it'd help you if you relaxed a bit."

"Thank you, for the tea and the juice. I think I'll wait for lunch, however."

"I'll let you get dressed. I won't be in the meeting later, but I wish you luck. Remember to take it easy during this break."

"You sound like Harry," I say, softly, as he turns to go.

"If Harry is worrying about your health, then I agree with him."

"Say that again, but let me cast a Recording Spell."

"No chance, Hermione. You work too hard - and I intend to see to it that you relax as much as possible."

I dress smartly, but in Muggle clothing, and then cross over to my desk. I notice the package from Severus - I must have forgotten all about it. I take the paper off, and it's a little box. There's a note in Severus' neat, but extremely italic handwriting.

_Hermione -_

_Something I mixed up for you. And you and I, young woman, are going to have a very, very serious talk._

_Severus. _

I open up the box, a peer inside. The bottle is labelled, and it makes my heart sink a little. _Patented Addiction Healer - Sleeping Aids. _I drop my head onto my desk. I don't know how he found out, and right now I don't care.

I run into Minerva outside the staff room, right before three. I got some food brought to my room for lunch, determined to avoid Severus. God, I hope he hasn't said anything to her. Going by the welcoming smile and warm handshake, I guess that he's kept his concerns to himself.

"OK, I'll set them up for. They seem pretty keen on the idea of you helping out, but make sure you include them in your decisions as far as possible. I appreciate that some of what you do may be impractical to run past everyone, but if you notify me, I can notify everyone else. Happy with what you have to say?"

"More or less."

"The general plan for my first week here is to observe. With your permission, I will sit in on at least one of your classes during the next week. I am not there to judge your teaching methods, I am there to observe what you're teaching. I'm also making a study of the amount of pupils in each class. I am comparing it to the size of the class I was in during my sixth year. There were three hundred pupils in my year alone, and over one thousand five hundred pupils in the school as a whole. I am aware that the school's total population is now just eight hundred. I need to know why this is, and we need to change it. I believe that a major reason for this drop in numbers is because parents do not consider Hogwarts a safe enough place. This school is now forever going to be synonymous with the Final Battle. People died here, and people are not going to forget that."

"But The Dark Lord is dead, forever. We know that, everybody knows that."

"Yes, but people aren't going to just forget how many died here, who died here, who died so we would fight here. Hogwarts was breached - and people now think that anything could happen, that we couldn't protect their children. At the moment - my solution would be to make attendance here temporarily compulsory." I hold up my hands at the expected outrage. "I know, I know that that would be immensely controversial. But we need the children here, they have to be educated by people who are able to set them up for any career. It wouldn't just be for Hogwarts - the Ministry would benefit, the private wizarding companies would develop further. I think that's about covered the plan for this week, and I can't really plan for next week until I've compiled everything from the observations this week. Thank you. Any questions?"

"Will you tell us when you're coming?" Severus asks, pointedly.

"Yes, I have a timetable here. Professor Vector: Monday, first hour, your sixth year class. Professor Flitwick: Monday, third hour, your third year class. Professor Binns: Monday, fourth hour, second years. Professor McGonagall: Tuesday, second hour, first years. Professor Snape: Tuesday, fourth hour, fourth years. Professor Trelawney: Wednesday, sixth hour, fifth years. Professor Sprout, Thursday, first hour, third years. Madame Hooch: Thursday, second hour, first years. Professor Babbling: Thursday, fourth hour, sixth years. Professor Hagrid: Thursday, sixth hour, fifth years. Professor Sinistra: Friday, third hour, fourth years. And Professor Flint: Friday, fifth years, second years. The list will go up in here. Why don't we have a Muggle Studies class?"

"We do - we take turns to teach it."

"You all take turns - to teach a subject that is a highly specialist subject, in which none of you are specialists."

"Yes."

"OK, we will deal with it. I would very much like to observe one of these classes. Who'd like to volunteer?"

SPOV

Quite unsurprisingly, nobody jumps at the opportunity. I look at her. Glamour Charms and concealer - she's practically insulting my eyes. I know full damn well what damage she's hiding under there, and I know what she's been doing. I did it myself, after the war. She needs some help, and by Merlin, I will pin her down and have that talk with her. She can't play the avoidance card forever. She's made the big mistake of not only not putting anyone after me, but arranging my observation for the period before I have a free period. I will talk to her if I have to tie her to a chair.

She goes off with McGonagall after the meeting, and I write down the time of my observation. My ex-pupil is going to be observing my teaching. I'm reasonably sure that this should be illegal. Who is it in charge of legal? Finnegan, that's it. One of the less aggravating pupils I had to deal with. She doesn't show for dinner, and Blaise informs me that she's chosen to eat dinner in her room.

"How long is she going to avoid facing people?"

"I don't know. I think she's just tired. Although, she got enough sleep last night."

"Blaise, we both know that this has got nothing to do with how much sleep she's gotten. She just can't deal with people gaping at her."

"She's a war hero, not a bloody zoo exhibit. She deserves her privacy."

"Blaise, I'm going to say this once. You fuck with her, and I'll beat you bloody."

"Message received."


	10. Chapter 10

HPOV

Observation week is long and stressful. I know that the teachers are exactly comfortable with my presence in their classrooms, watching their every move. It must bring back memories of Umbridge doing the same thing, then tampering with everything and making Hogwarts a horrible place to be. Not to mention the fact that all of these professors bar Flint taught me when I was a pupil here, and to now have me watching them teach the next generation must be stressful at least. Even though I'm not here to hire and fire, and I'm not here to comment on the teaching, it can't be easy for anyone. Professor Vector takes me aside after her class.

"Hermione, it is good to see you back. Can I speak to you?"

"Of course. Look, I understand that this cannot be easy for you, one of your ex-pupils taking notes at the back."

"You used to do that while you were my pupil, except you were sitting at the front. I saw you itching to put your hand up once or twice."

"What was it you wanted?"

"Yes, of course, you have to get on. You know that I want to retire this year, and I wanted to suggest something."

"Anything."

"Professor Flint - he's the current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - was one of the best pupils I've ever had. Might even have been better at Runes than you, and you were damn good at Ancient Runes. I would feel much happier in my retirement if I knew it was him taking my place."

"I'll do what I can, of course, but you know it's not my decision."

"You'll have a say in it."

"Indeed. I'll put in a good word."

"Thank you, Hermione. And I don't think you're interfering. Nobody does."

"I know - I just keep looking at my clipboard and then get reminded of Umbridge doing the same thing."

"Hermione, you are nothing like that vile woman. For a start, you have a dress sense."

"Thanks, Professor," I say, smiling at her. "I have to go for now, but may we sit together at dinner? We can have a proper catch up together."

"Of course we can. I'll see you later."

I have no idea what I've let myself in for when I go into Severus' class on Tuesday afternoon. There's only thirteen students in a class which is compulsory for all years - and two of the four houses are represented here. Gryffindor and Slytherin - seven Gryffindors, six Slytherins. We need to address attendance as a matter of urgency. I try to sneak out after his students, but he slams and wards the door milliseconds after the last pupil has left. I hear a shriek and feet running away. Sensible child doing exactly what I should have done, running like hell the second he said class dismissed - if not slightly before the end.

"You sit yourself down on that chair, young lady," he says, severely.

"Severus, I am rather busy, I -"

"Sit on it, or I'll tie you to it. Pick one."

"Well, as I know that you're serious about that threat, I suppose I'll sit on it," I say, attempting to lighten the mood." He glares at me, and I wilt back into the chair.

"Hermione, how long have you been addicted to Sleeping Potions? And don't lie to me about it, or you'll insult both of us. I know the signs."

"I can't put a time on addiction. And I can sleep without them, I can, but not well. I have such horrible dreams, Severus. I see Fred die, over and over again. I see Colin Creevey dead in my arms, as I carried him into the Hall. And I feel Greyback's claws rip into my skin, see the blood pouring down my front - seeing my blood stain Ron's shirt as he held me, begging me not to die, then I see Harry kneeling beside us, shouting my name. and then, as it gets darker, I hear him say that Voldemort is dead, and that I have to live. That's why I do it, Severus."

"How long, Hermione?"

"Six months. A year, perhaps."

"Does anybody know?"

"No, not even Harry. And if you breathe so much as a word to anybody, anybody at all, I swear to you, I will never, _never _forgive you. Besides, Harry's got more than enough on his mind without my messed up head to worry about. Did you know that Ginny was pregnant?"

"I did not. I must write and congratulate them. Hermione, for your own sake, and the sake of the people who love you, let me help you. I can make it better."

"How? You can't stop my nightmares."

"Nightmares are always going to follow you, Hermione, even if the War hadn't happened. I can't take them away from you, but you can fight them. Nightmares exist on our subconscious, they feed of the darkest thoughts, memories and emotions. As you heal, your nightmares will ease. I can help you do that."

"How do I find happiness, Severus? What's your suggestion? That I go out and fall in love and have kids and boom! Eternal happiness will magically happen. This isn't a story, Severus, this is my life."

"Hermione, there's someone out there for everyone. Perhaps love is the answer, but most of the answer will be letting your demons go. You carry your scars as a badge of honour, you're proud of them and you don't consider them a hindrance. You have accepted your scars, but you must now accept the actions that led you to getting them. You have to acknowledge and accept your actions, accept that while you killed, you saved at the same time. I could name you five people, at least, who would stand up in a court of law, and willingly accept that you saved their lives."

"Go on, then."

"Harry, George Weasley, me, Ginny Weasley, and Draco Malfoy. I can carry this on if you want."

SPOV

She looks up at me, eyes worn and tired. Old before her time, aged and broken down, downtrodden by burdens she should never have borne at her age, burdens that nobody should ever have to bear in their lifetimes.

"Save me, Severus. Please."

"I will, with everything I can."

"I'm falling. I thought I was hanging onto the edge again, holding on and surviving, doing what I did before I tried to end my miserable bloody life. I thought I was still clinging to the edge and making it through. But I know that I let go when I wanted so badly to die. I've been free-falling for a year and a half, ever since I watched my blood bloom like roses in the water, and I thought that I was living. But I was wrong. I haven't been surviving, I've just been on auto-pilot. I'm falling, but no fall is endless. I will hit the floor one day, Severus, and you and I both know that I won't get up from a fall that's been going for a year and a half. It'll kill me next time, because next time I'll know what I'm doing." She meets my eyes, tears glittering, her voice hard and heavy with despair. "Help me."


	11. Chapter 11

SPOV

"Take a dose of this with half your dose of Sleep Potion. I will advise you to go cold turkey with the Muggle pills you're taking. I can make you up a mild suppressant if the side-effects get too much for you. Now, this programme is designed to stretch over six weeks, please don't try and do it any faster, I know what you're like. There will be side-effects - for example, you may experience itching, fatigue, nausea, a little weight gain - which certainly wouldn't hurt you - and/or mood swings. It's the blue Potion at night - one teaspoonful right before you go to bed, along with half of the dose of whatever sleep potion you're taking. The red Potion has to be taken in the morning, two teaspoons. The red one is mostly cosmetic, its like an iron and calcium supplement - it'll help your nails and your dark circles. However, there is also an agent in it that may help any itching that may occur. Can you remember all that?"

"Yes."

"Hermione, I can read you like a bloody book. I am not going to breathe a word of this to anybody, but my last piece of advice is to tell at least one other person, somebody in London. Harry and Ron have at least some right to know. They've been your best friends for years, and whatever may have transpired between you and Mr. Weasley, I know you care for them both, as they both care for you."

"I know, I know. And I will tell them. But it's not something you can say in a letter, or by Floo. I'll tell them when I'm back in London, when I'm done here. I promise, Severus," she says, meeting my scepticism before I've even said anything. "Look, I have to go. I've got work to do. But thank you, for everything."

"Hermione, you're not alone. You can talk to me any time. You need to stop trying to deal with everything on your own. You might be damn close to being the superhero the world sees you as, but at the end of it, you're only human."

HPOV

The next few days pass unsteadily. By the time the staff meeting rolls around on the following Monday evening, I've had a dull headache for three days. I'm going to have to hit Severus up for some Pain-Killer Remedy. Failing that, pick a fight with Blaise and see if he'll be kind enough to Stun me. I haven't seen much of either him or Draco recently, although Draco did join me in what was meant to be a small snifter of Firewhiskey last night. I vaguely remember him putting me into bed.

"First off, I want to thank you for your co-operation over the last few days. I appreciate that having me lurking in the backs of your classrooms can't have been easy, but thank you for doing your bests to ignore me as far as possible. I've compiled my notes and decided on the main target areas. Attendance is the biggest issue. For gods sake, the biggest class only had twenty people in it. The smallest had eight. We need to address this issue. Hogwarts must remain, in the eyes of the parents, absolutely sacrosanct. We need people to know that Hogwarts is safe and the best place for their children. I therefore want to introduce compulsory attendance for years one to three only. I believe that this will massively benefit the children here. After the third year, the choice will remain with the child and the parent. If the parent can offer a satisfactory reason to the faculty here why their child is not benefiting from being at Hogwarts, then they may teach the child at home. That jurisdiction will remain with the Head of Hogwarts.

"I have also been made aware that changes in staffing are about to take place. Professor Flint," I say, turning to him, "I think we both agree that you are not a Defence Against the Dark Arts type. However, having been sneaking about, I have managed to discover that you were exceptional at Ancient Runes. Professor Vector even implied you were better than me. When she retires at the end of the year, I would like to recommend to the Headmistress that you take her place. What do you think, Professor McGonagall?"

"Works out just fine for me. But who then takes Professor Flint's place?"

"Oh, come on Minerva."

"You think he would?"

"I know he would. He certainly isn't suited to the Ministry, though Merlin knows that Kingsley is trying hard."

"Who are you talking about?" Vector asks, her face alive with interest. I smile at her.

"Harry Potter. He and Ginny are married, kid on the way - what better job could we offer the saviour of the Wizarding World than a place here, where Ginny and the baby can live with him, where he can inspire young people. Plus he'll be a massive draw for the parents."

"Crafty calculating little minx," Severus mutters.

"I heard that, Severus. And now, the third thing. Muggle Studies. I know I'm butting in again, so feel free to aim a Stunning Spell. George Weasley. As you know, he actually got himself some NEWTS last year. He wants to get back into a career. I've been talking to him, and I would like to recommend him."

"Hermione, this is where his twin brother died. Will he want to come back?"

"I don't know. I can't and won't make him a job offer. That is your job. But if you want him, I'll reference him. However, he didn't outright reject me when I put Hogwarts on as an option for future jobs. We met for coffee, and I made several suggestions. Now, I will be available at Hogwarts over the next few days - I depart for London on Saturday morning. I am entirely at your disposal, barring the mornings. I have a little work left to do - but recently it has been brought to my attention that I should take some more time for myself. I hope to use some of my time here to do that."

I ask Severus for some Headache Potion, which he duly provides me, and retire to my room. Dinner, bath, and bed. I need it. And, naturally, because I'm looking forward to it, something interrupts me doing it. There's an owl from Kingsley waiting when I get back from dinner, smoothing it's feathers on the table in the common room. Blaise and I exchange glances, and he unhooks the note. The owl screeches and flies straight out of the window without waiting for a treat.

"It's for both of us."

"Read it then." He scans the few lines. "I meant out loud."

"Sorry." He clears his throat a little, and puts on an officious voice. "Miss Granger and Mr Zabini - I am sorry to cut your trips short, but we need you at the Ministry. The press has found another story they're making serious threats about running, concerning your departments. We need you back here. Return by Apparation tomorrow morning at 09:00 hours exactly, directly to my office. I have alerted Headmistress McGonagall." There's a little silence. "And there was me getting comfy."

"You're meant to be working."

"I have been. A bit."

"Well, we'd better be getting ready to go." I go over to my room. I'm still not comfortable around him. We're easier in each others company - at least, I can abide him for longer than I could a week ago - but we're quite a way from being friends. Hogwarts is magical to it's core - and I blame that. I can go right back to ignoring him soon.

Draco helps me pack up my notes, while I address my clothes.

"You could do this by magic."

"No, I don't like to."

"Why not?" he asks, curiously.

"I just don't."

"Fair enough." I'm never going to tell him that every time I try and pack my notes by magic, they end up all unordered and jumbled together. The one spell I struggle with is the one spell I could truly use on a regular basis. He might have apologised, but I'm not going to hand him ammunition to tease me with. His shocked voice breaks our easy silence. "Hermione, why the hell are you taking addiction healers?" My blood freezes. How could I have been so _stupid _as to leave them out?

"I - I - well, I -"

"Hermione," he says, gently, coming over to me. "It's OK. It's OK." When he keeps walking, envelopes me in his arms, I break. Clinging to his shirt, I cry for the first time since I tried to end my life. The headaches, the tiredness, every emotional dam I ever built inside me snaps. "Hermione, it's OK. Hush now, come on. It's OK." He rubs my back, makes little soothing noises, tells me that it's OK, and doesn't let go. When I finally calm down, he even dries my tears for me. He holds onto me for a little longer, while I shake in his arms. Then he takes my hand, pulls me over to my bed, and sits me down on it. He slips out, comes back with a cup of tea. "Drink this."

"Oh, Draco I'm sorry."

"For being human? You have the right to break down."

"Don't say it like that," I whisper. "I broke down once before."

"When?" I forgot he would have been in Azkaban. He doesn't even know, I realise. He doesn't know that I came damn close to finishing myself off.

"Two years ago, I tried to kill myself. I downed enough Blood-Thinning Potion for three people, hacked my wrists with a razor blade. Harry found me in my bathtub, covered in my own blood. He got me to St Mungo's, they stitched me up, and I spent the next six months strapped to a bed. And when I woke up - I was so angry with him. Couldn't he see that I wanted to die? Why did he have to interfere? I said terrible, terrible things to Harry. Because at that point, I honestly wanted to be dead. I didn't want to carry on. I was so tired of being a hero, I was tired of being the survivor. I didn't want to be alive any more, I wanted to see my parents again. It took me a while to forgive him. I didn't know why he bothered, didn't want to see him, made the staff make him stay away. Now I can't forgive myself, for putting him through that."

"Jesus, Hermione. Jesus."

"Pretty much sums it up," I say, laughing weakly.

"You dealt with so much, all on your own."

"I made the mistake of assuming I could cope with it."

"Even I know that that's just silly."

"I know, I know."

DPOV

She looks so fragile. All I want to do is hold her close and fight off her demons for her. She puts one hand on her heart.

"I love Harry, you know," she says, conversationally. "I always have and I always will. I'd tell him every day if it didn't make him uncomfortable." She tries a laugh, but it sounds forced and wrong. "I settle for telling him at least once a week. There's absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do for him. He's the main reason I'm so focussed on getting better. He needs me to be better, you know? He needs me to fight, so I am. Now I see that I want to live. He made me see that, he saved my life so many times." She meets my eyes. "You mustn't cry, Draco. I'm fighting my demons a little bit each day. Doing enough to keep them at bay, but now I'm gaining ground as well. I can beat this."


	12. Chapter 12

HPOV

I step in between Hermione and Blaise, and she takes my hand.

"Blaise, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Then lets go." She Apparates me away with her, presumably leaving Blaise to catch up. We arrive in Kingsley's office and she brushes her skirt down before straightening up. Blaise arrives moments behind her. Kingsley nods at us, and puts a paper into Hermione's hands. She scans the article, hands it to me. I make to hand it to Blaise, but she stops me. "Draco, I gave it to you to read." I read it, let my eyebrows wing up a little bit, and then hand it on to Blaise.

"Kingsley, this is bullshit."

"Yes, I am aware of that. However, it has run, and now we need to deal with it."

"So, let me check I understand this," I say, deciding that as Kingsley hasn't commented on my presence and that I haven't been told to go, I can contribute. "Somebody has told the press that the Departments of Reform and Records are in some kind of weird deal to close Hogwarts and representatives of those departments are currently on a trip to Hogwarts in order to inform the staff and order that the "building and contents that constitute Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry be handed over to the Ministry". The article then goes on to say that Hermione Granger is in league with former Death Eater Draco Malfoy and that together they plot to bring down the Ministry and re-build it as a dictatorship. Are people seriously swallowing this crap?"

"The point isn't whether or not they believe it, the point is that it's out there. And naturally, there will be some people who do believe that this is true."

"There have already been owls." Kingsley gestures at the pile of letters on his desk. "We need to start dealing with this. It needs to be nipped in the bud, and fast."

"Yes, and I think I know how to go about nipping it in the bud. Hermione, how soon can you and Seamus get the reforms for Hogwarts pushed through?" Blaise asks.

"A week. Maybe less. I can do it in three days if Seamus can clear his calendar totally, and you can sign it the second it drops onto your desk, Kingsley," Hermione says. "But that won't be enough. We're going to come out of this looking like we're interfering at Hogwarts which we obviously are. Denying our involvement will do us no favours. I say we have a press conference. Professor McGonagall, one of the other Hogwarts staff, me, you and Kingsley, and you, Draco."

"Me, why me?"

"Because you are in this too. I'm sorry for asking this, and you can say no - but you need to make a public statement that you are accepting your punishment as fair and just, and that all you want to do is make amends."

"I can do that. My punishment is fair and just, and all I want to do is pay my dues, and then build a new life for myself."

"Good. Kingsley, you can organise this? Good. I'll owl Minerva, update her on the situation, start drafting some laws. I'll get Seamus out, get him to drop everything and then we can get this party started. I will also Message Luna, tell her to release a careful and controlled statement to the bloody press, announcing the conference for the day after tomorrow. Draco, talk to Kingsley about the format the conference will take, who will talk when and who will say what. Blaise, for goodness sake use your mind for good and pick some reporters. Not just the ones who like us. At least five members of the press at that conference have to be baying for our blood. If we can turn them, we can combat this now." She gathers her things, and leaves the office before she's even drawn breath.

When he's managed to get over Hermione's taking charge of everything, Kingsley shakes his head at the closed door.

"Boys, watch her. Because that woman there, that woman is the future Minister for Magic. And on the day it happens, this world will be changed irreversibly, and she will be ten times the hero she already is." He opens the discarded _Prophet _and points out an article. "It's written by some crackpot. A total manic, which of course makes the whole thing more dangerous." I pick up the newspaper, and Blaise puts his head next to mine to read along with me.

_Hermione Granger, Villain._

_Miss Hermione Granger, one-time member of the Golden Trio, supposed Saviour, and employee of the Ministry Of Magic, is in reality a cold villainess, who skilfully hides her true self behind a pathetic façade of the tragic victim. Having willingly thrown in her lot with Death Eater Draco Malfoy by publicly defending his actions in his sensational re-trial, which she herself engineered, she now plots to take over the Ministry of Magic from within, and using it's power to force her own regime of terror on the Wizarding World. Despite publicly admitting that during the war she used all three Unforgivable Curses and failing to express any remorse for those disgusting criminal acts, she has never stood trial for what she did. _

_While Miss Granger may be a saint in the eyes of the gullible, to this reporter she is obviously a scheming villain, little better than the Death Eaters she fought. By taking control of Hogwarts, she will indoctrinate the innocent children educated there, convincing yet another generation that murder and torture are 'necessary' acts. Two years ago, she artfully 'attempted suicide', chillingly manipulating even her friends into believing the press were victimising her, thus allowing her to remain unhindered in her schemes to take over the wizarding world from within. _

_However, this is not the first time that Miss Granger has used friendship to her advantage. Her first scandal came the age of just fourteen, when she dated two Triwizard Tournament contestants, playing them off against each other in a planned game in order to ensure the triumph of Harry Potter. This also subsequently assured that Mr Potter would witness the rebirth of Voldemort, and thereby brought about the death of one Cedric Diggory. The consummate professional, these crimes were blamed upon another, leaving her free to continue her plots. Somebody must stand up to Miss Granger - before she becomes the next Dark Lord. _

I don't realise that I've torn the paper in two at first. It is only when Blaise clamps a hand on my shoulder and says "Easy, tiger," that I realise how blisteringly angry I really am.

"It's barely even comprehensible, makes little sense. But this is actually gaining some momentum." Kingsley looks tired and worn.

"Are you telling me that there are people out there who honestly believe that Hermione is like this?"

"Sadly - yes. How do you think she'd respond to taking some time off."

"By hexing you into the middle of next week." A different voice breaks into our conversation. Harry Potter strides past me, sparks coming out of his ears. Well, not really, but somehow I wouldn't be surprised. "For crying out loud, is there nobody monitoring this shit?"

"Freedom of speech and press, Harry, you know that. They have the right to say it."

"Has Hermione seen this yet?"

"No, but it's a matter of time."

"Try and keep it from her, won't you? For as long as you can, anyway. She doesn't need this right now, she needs to be able to concentrate on work without worrying that this is what people think of her. I've had three owls from Molly Weasley already, going crazy about this. She wants Hermione to go to her place for a while, get away from everything."

"Which she won't do."

"Obviously not. Would it be possible to get her some security? You know this'll only heighten interest in her, I don't want her to be back in the situation where everywhere she goes she's surrounded by ravenous dogs."

"Of course it would be possible Harry, I could have a man behind her and two at her home in half an hour, but you know and I know that she would never consent to be followed around by a hulking bodyguard Auror." Harry pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"She's always been so bloody stubborn. Look, Kingsley, I've got to go. Ginny's waiting. We're going for tea with Molly. Malfoy, can I have a word with you?"

"Err, yeah, sure." I follow him out of Kingsley's office, and off down the corridor leading to the exits.

"In here," he says, yanking me into a broom cupboard. "Look, Malfoy, I'm going to get to the point. When they released you, I wasn't dancing for joy. When they put you onto Hermione, I was many miles from happy. I was pretty pissed off when she started banging on about how you were one of the good guys. But I've had a think about it all. If Hermione trusts you, and believes in you enough to get you released from Azkaban, then fine. Will you promise me to keep an eye on her? Make sure she doesn't work too hard and try and make her go home early once in a while."

"I have every intention of doing so, Potter. And about the bodyguard situation - she can't get rid of _me,_ and so I will act that role incognito, as it were. And while I might not have my wand anymore, I can use my fists. I'll defend her if I have to Potter, and you have my word, for what it's worth."

"Thank you," he says abruptly, before leaving the broom cupboard quietly. I stand struck for a moment, staring at the closed door with the spider crawling on it. I suppose if that spider could talk, it'd be telling me there are better places to think about changing emotions to one-time enemies than in a cobwebby, dusty old cupboard. But some things are best thought out in cobwebby, dusty cupboards, and assimilating the fact that Potter just said thank you is one of those things.


	13. Chapter 13

DPOV

Hermione goes into overdrive over the next week. Everything needs to be done ten minutes ago and most things need to be done yesterday. Hermione at school was a complete slacker compared to Hermione now. She takes her Potions because I bring them to her and watch her take them, I've no doubt she'd take them anyway, but at least this way I can tell Severus she's doing as she's told. I don't like going behind her back, and I know that she'd be furious if she knew I was sending Severus reports on how she's doing, but at the moment, my fear of Severus Snape outweighs my fear of Hermione Granger. She looks better, despite her long hours and hard work. I think she may even have put on a little weight.

Exactly a week after we have returned from Hogwarts, she's pushed through the educational reforms. Attendance is now compulsory for years one to three. Details were revealed at the press conference, which she handled with grace, style and professionalism. She controlled every second of it, never once letting anybody know that she was doing it. They got two minutes of my statement, two questions, and then things were moved on. Hermione herself allowed the press to ask her more searching questions. She was rigid in her timings, and the entire conference ran to the time allotted and no longer. She was almost bordering on the military in her planning and execution. As she walks out of the conference with me beside her, I could tell what Kingsley had meant about her being Minister for Magic material. Kingsley has a while to go yet before he decides to retire, but she'll more than likely take his place.

She's pushed through a law against blood-based insults. I know that she doesn't mean it as a dig at me personally, but I know full well that if I hadn't been such a tosser to her at school, she wouldn't have thought of it. She has a hundred and one other plans for reforms, including one that is causing uproar within the Ministry itself. In a bid to tackle corruption, she wants a law on elections. She wants the public to vote for the Minster of Magic. It is, after all, the Minister who puts the final stamp on everything, the Minister who's word is law. She's really pushing this onto the departments, getting the opinions on it, sending me all over the place to harass people who haven't responded. I quite enjoy it, actually, scudding about on various errands. She's not even hugely fussed about how long I take, so I can always slip in to see Blaise if I want. We haven't suddenly become friends overnight, just because she cried in my arms. But we do at least understand that we're on better terms than either of us ever thought possible. I can at least hold out some hope that she will get better, get back to being a little more like the old Hermione. Unlike Blaise, I know that the old Hermione will never fully return. Too much has been done and said. The old Hermione can return a little bit, but Hermione is changed irreversibly by the War, like all of us.

She's been looking shifty and suspicious all day. It's Friday, and I know that look. She's plotting. She used to get that look at school, when she and Potter and Weasley were planning something dodgy and guaranteed to break about a million school rules. In hindsight, if Dumbledore hadn't been headmaster, they all would have been expelled round-about their third year, naturally assuming they'd make it that far. But anyway, that look is back. I don't know what she's planning, but she keeps kicking me out the office, and people keep coming to visit. I'm nearly dancing on the spot with sheer frustration. Anna stifles a giggle at my annoyance, and sends me off to Blaise.

"It's much better that you aren't hanging about today."

"You know what she's up to."

"Of course. Now off you go." I go off, and stomp into Blaise's office.

"Anna kick you out to make way for Hermione's scheming?"

"Do you know too?" I demand.

"No, but I saw her earlier, and she's got that look on again. You know, that look she used to get at school when she and Potter and Weasley were plotting something outrageous."

"Yeah, I know. Anna kicked me out the office, told me to come down here."

"What for?"

"Because you're the only one here apart from Hermione who vaguely welcomes my presence."

"Very true, Draco, very true. Want anything to drink?"

"What have you got?"

"Tea, coffee, Butterbeer, pumpkin juice and this Muggle thing. One of the guys in the department brought me some, said I have to try it. It's called 7-Up, it's fizzy. Quite nice."

"Yeah, I'll have that." He throws me a bottle and I try it tentatively. "Hey, not bad. Hermione drinks Dandelion and Burdock. It's a fizzy, like this. Weird taste though."

"It's Hermione, now, is it? She still makes me call her Ms Granger. Or Ma'am, if she's in a bad mood with me."

"She hasn't made me call her that since before we went back to Hogwarts."

"Well, never mind. How is she today. I saw her earlier, as I said. She looks healthier."

"Yes, I think she's on some sort of health kick."

"Well, it suits her. Even her scars are looking less livid."

"Well, she was so pale before, the scars stood out so much. She's pretty brave about it all. She could have just retreated into a hole somewhere, hidden away from the world. She could use cover-up stuff. But she doesn't, and I have a lot of admiration for that, and I respect that she doesn't try and hide."

"You care about her."

"Shut up, Blaise. I don't feel for her in that way. Yes, I care about her and I hope we can be friends, but I don't want to get into her pants." A note lands on Blaise's desk before he can respond.

_Zabini, send Draco back up, will you. I want to talk to him about something._

_Hermione._

Short and sweet, I suppose. I go back upstairs in a lift, and the operator even condescends to make conversation.

"I saw that press conference. Heard what you said, and all. And I reckon that while you do sort of deserve what you're getting, I also think that what Ms Granger said about you is true."

"Well, you're the first to say it. Thank you."

"No problem. This is you."

"Thanks."

I go to Hermione's office pretty slowly. I know that people won't forget, and many won't forgive, either. But knowing there are people like him - I didn't even get his name - I guess'll make it a little easier.

"Oh, Draco, come in. Shut the door, sit down."

"Have you taken your Potion?"

"Yes, with lunch, as always. Now, I have been talking to various people, and -"

"You mean you've been plotting. I know that look."

"Whatever. Now, as you know, you are under protective custody of the Ministry. During the day you are in my charge, at night you go to the Ministry - well, how do I put this -"

"Holding pens," I suggest.

"Not quite what I was going to say, but we'll use it. Now, I don't know what it's like there, but I can imagine it's not great. So, I talked to some people, and they all agree that it's within the bounds of the law. So I am offering you a place to live. With me."

"What?"

"I'm offering to let you move in. I have a spare room at my house, and it'd probably be more fun for you there than this Ministry place. Gives you a little more freedom, not much, but a little. You can eat and shower when you want, you'll have privacy, and while you'll still be in my custody, I think I can trust you enough to not blow things up, so I won't be constantly hovering over you and making sure you stick to a timetable for breathing or anything." I stare at her, and she fidgets. "I mean, you don't have to or anything, I just thought it might be nice for you," she mumbles.

"What about the press?" she sniffs disdainfully.

"What about them?"

"Well, aren't you worried about what they'll say?"

"By they, do you mean the lunatic who wrote some garbage about me being a Death Eater just waiting for my chance to take over?"

"You've seen that article then."

"Well, obviously. Before you start panicking, it won't push me onto another breakdown or suicide attempt. Now, do you want to come and stay, or not."

"Well, sure, if it won't trouble you."

"If it was going to, I wouldn't offer. You can take a place on the household duty rota, which at the moment features me doing everything unless Harry comes over and I can shanghai him into doing the washing up."

"I can cook. And iron."

"Oh good, because I hate doing the ironing. There is one thing. I do a lot of things the Muggle way. Cooking, the laundry, the washing up, the ironing, the hovering. I do have charms for keeping the place dust-free and smelling nice though."

"Yeah, and that won't be a problem. I don't have a wand right now." She looks more uncomfortable than ever, and fidgets with some papers on her desk. "What is it, Hermione."

"As part of my office as your - as part of you being in my custody, they gave me - I have your wand."

"What?"

"It's at home. It's one reason why they were so reluctant to let you stay. They think you'll try and steal it, curse me and then embark upon a quest to take over the world. Or something, I had stopped listening by then. They're so tedious. You will have to promise that you won't do that."

"I promise I won't steal back my own wand, curse you with it and then take over the world."

"Then you can move in tonight, if you like to."

So I go home with her that night, to a pretty little house in Godric's Hollow, tucked just outside the village. There's ivy creeping up the right side of the house, and a wild rose bush around the door. The front garden is neat and square, with another wild rose growing more or less unchecked along the fence. She unlocks, and we go inside.

"Put your case down there for a moment, I'll put the kettle on. Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?"

"Tea, please." She turns on the lights, illuminating a cosy little kitchen. She makes the tea, takes us through to a living room that is as cosy as the kitchen. A little open fireplace is harbouring crackling fire, the mantle crowded with pretty little whatnots. A deep red sofa that look brilliantly comfortable is set before it, a coffee table before that. An armchair accompanies it, and there is some sort of opaque rectangle with a silver frame hung above the fireplace. It smells nice here, like newly-mown grass, and peppermint. Unlike that Ministry holding pen, which just smells like mud and seaweed.

"OK, I'm not really up for cooking tonight, so how about we order in Chinese takeout, and just spend an evening in? Want to settle in now, or after dinner?"

"Could I get into my room, unpack a few things?"

"Sure." She leads me upstairs. "That's the bathroom, and that's my room. Here's where I'm putting you. The other bedroom is my study." She opens the door to a good-sized room, which is painted in a colour scheme that exactly matches her furnishings. The wall opposite the window is deep blue, a midnight tone, and the three others are cream. The bed cover is the same deep blue, and the curtains and rug match. "There's a desk for you, some shelves. The wardrobe isn't very big, but if you need more room, I can do an Extension Charm for you. Double bed, feathers. You aren't allergic, are you? Good. So I'll leave you to settle. Any preferences on dinner? I'll order my usual then. Oh, and about the bathroom. I prefer to shower in the evenings, but you can go whenever you like. I indulged with the bathroom, actually, Undetectable Extension Charms were needed to fit everything in. Feel free to make use of it as you please." She goes off downstairs, and I sit down on the bed. It's so soft. I'm tempted to lie down, but if I do that, I'll fall asleep. I unpack what few belongings I have, then go across to the bathroom. I can hear the murmur of Hermione's voice downstairs. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see the bathroom. She's gone modern with the power shower, but kept it looking old fashioned. She's done the same with the whirlpool bath. I'm seriously, seriously tempted. I go down before I can.

"Harry, will you shut up for five seconds and listen to me?" She sounds impatient. Is Harry here? I can't hear him. "No, Harry, _listen. _I couldn't let him stay in that place any longer." There's another pause. "Oh, don't be so silly. Look, I'm hanging up now. Yes Harry. Goodbye, love you too." She sighs. "Draco, I know you're listening." She smiles, and pats the sofa. "Dinner will be here soon."

"Was Harry just here?"

"No, on the phone. This is a telephone. You use it to speak to people who are far away. I'll demonstrate some time. Found everything OK?"

"Yeah. Love the bathroom."

"Indulgence. But sometimes, the only thing that'll cut it is a whirlpool bath and a glass of wine."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For giving me the chance." She smiles at me again, nods.

"It's OK, Draco."


	14. Chapter 14

HPOV

_We're in the tent, and I have the radio on. Harry is sitting a way off from me, but I'm not looking at him. Ron's left us, and we're alone. _

_He gets up, comes over to me, and turns up the volume on the radio. He pulls me to my feet, and we dance together. It's silly and it's fun, and I can't quite help the smile. He really can't dance, bless him, but it's nice that he's trying to cheer me up. When we finish, we walk away. But I know, deep down, that I've had enough of people walking away. So I go back to him, slide my arms around his waist from behind, rest my head on his shoulder. _

"_Mione," he whispers. He turns around in my arms. Our lips meet, and after that it's just a frantic blur. We didn't even make it to a bed. He took me up in his arms, swept the table clear, slammed me back onto it. Neither of us cared about whether somebody got hurt. I dug my nails into his biceps, bit down hard on his shoulder when he slammed into me. I tasted blood on my lips, and when he kissed me, he growled at the taste of his own blood on my mouth. He pushed my shoulders until I was lying back. His hands raced over my body, and electric current followed them. He seized my upper arms in a bruising grip, rested his forehead against mine. "We shouldn't be doing this."_

"_A bit late to back out now."_

"_You're so fucking beautiful, Mione."_

"_Harry," I gasped, feeling his finger slide down my body, slipping between my legs, teasing me into a frenzy above where he had buried himself in me. _

"_I want to remember you like this. Coming apart in my arms, beautiful."_

I sit upright in bed, gasping for breath. It had felt so real, and I'd felt so alive. I push the bedclothes away from me, get out of bed. I go to the bathroom, then listen outside Draco's door for a bit. His breathing is slow and settled, and it catches occasionally. I think he might be prone to snoring sometimes. I go back to my own room, go over to the window. The sky is still black dark. I find my watch, realise it's only three in the morning and sigh. I reckon I've had about six hours sleep. I get back into bed, aware that it's a bit chilly in my room. I hope Draco's warm enough. I didn't show him where the extra blankets were. I'm just drifting peacefully back off when an ungodly shriek echoes round the house. I fall out of bed and scramble to my feet, snatching my wand off my bedside table, and haring down the hall towards the shriek. It's Draco, struggling like the demons of hell are after him.

"Draco, wake up," I say shaking him. His eyes fly open, and he shoots up in bed, cracking me right across the bridge of the nose with his forehead. "Oh, bugger it!" I shout, reeling back, feeling my nose carefully.

"Hermione? I'm sorry."

"Are you alright?" I ask, having ascertained that my nose is neither broken nor bleeding. "I heard you scream."

"Nightmares," he gasps, through gritted teeth. "Just nightmares."

"About the war."

"How did you know?"

"I've had them myself. It's part of the reason I was taking so much Dreamless Sleep."

"I can't get my head round them. And Azkaban, Hermione, it always ends in Azkaban." I wrap him into a hug, and he shivers.

"It's alright, Draco, it's OK. I'm here now. It's OK." I hold onto him, and he hugs back, hiding his head in my shoulder. It's like holding a child. He's still so thin and pinched looking, and in his pyjamas, his pallor and fragility are emphasized. "Shall I stay here now?"

"Please." I tuck him back in, Summon my quilt and put that over him. I creep in behind him, and he slips himself into my arms. I stroke his hair and face sleepily, until his breathing settles down and he's sleeping quietly once more. I drift off myself, and don't stir again until the alarm goes off in the morning. It takes me a while to work out where I am, and turn off my watch. Draco is gone, and I sit up, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. I get up, and go downstairs, to find he's got the fire going, and he's put the kettle on. We exchange pleasantries, and I make us some breakfast. While we're washing up, he suddenly takes my hands.

"Hermione, I want to thank you for last night. Nobody's ever cared enough about me to stay with me after a nightmare. Not even my mother -." His voice trails off.

"Draco, it wasn't a problem. We can sort something out for the long-term, but for as long as you need me, I'll stay with you. Every night, if needs be."

"Why?"

"Draco, I've woken up from so many nightmares alone and scared. I would have given my right arm for someone, anyone to hold onto. Someone to be there when I woke up frightened. I can't count the amount of times I woke up feeling the claws of that - that _man_, screaming, desperate for someone to be there. I stayed with Harry for a while, but I had to move out. He and Ginny were newly-married for goodness sake, they didn't need me shrieking and screaming every single night."

"What about when you were with -"

"He couldn't handle it. I don't want you to think he was a bad man, Draco, because he wasn't. He was good to me, and I did love him. And he did love me, but in the end we didn't love each other in the right way. But he had his own problems, with Fred's death and George so broken, and his parents so shattered. We decided, contrary to what the papers said, that we weren't right or good for each other. I didn't know what to say to comfort him, and he didn't know how to soothe me. He tried, God knows he tried, but I was too damaged. Ron and I are still close, we still speak, and we're in a much better place now."

"The press were brutal to you, Hermione. You didn't deserve any of the crap they gave you, and you don't now. Potter was right to do what he did, even if he did wait too long."

"You mean he could have intervened before I tried to off myself? He didn't know how close I was to breaking, nobody did. Not even I knew how close I was to that edge."

"Well, yes. But at least he did something, unlike that useless idiot you call an ex-boyfriend."

"Now, Draco," I say, looking at him sternly.

"Sorry. What do you usually do with your days off?"

"It depends. Sometimes I laze about, sometimes I do some work, and sometimes I go and visit people. Today is in your hands. We could go out, do something Muggle. I always wanted to take you out to do something Muggle."

"Even at school?"

"Sometimes, although it really did depend on how annoying you were being. There were times when I could have cheerfully battered you with a rock."

"Fair enough. Lets do something Muggle." He pauses suddenly, and a frown creases between his eyebrows.

"What's the problem?"

"Am I allowed out?"

"If you're with me you are. Get your coat."

"I don't have one?"

"Then we'd better go shopping."

"I don't have any money either." He looks horribly uncomfortable. I suppose it is quite a step down for him.

"Having little money isn't the end of the world." I snap. "You're going to have to forget the lap of luxury stuff, Malfoy."

DPOV

There's a little silence. She looks shocked at her own words.

"Draco," she says, softly, her voice shaking, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say it. I don't know why I did."

"It's OK, Hermione. I've said worse to you."

"It doesn't excuse it," she says, clearly upset, getting up from the sofa and turning her back on me. I go over to her.

"Hermione, seriously. It's OK."

"No it isn't!" she cries, her voice sharpened by tears this time. "We were having a nice morning, and then me and my bloody stupidity -" I grab her by the shoulders and give her a shake.

"Hermione Granger, you shut up right now. I'm serious. It's over, forgotten."

"I'm sorry." I can't think of what else to do, so I take her into my arms, and give her a hug. I remember the soothing noises she made for me last night, and try my own, stroking her hair.

There's a quick knock at the door, then it opens and Harry bloody Potter strides in, interrupting the moment, and stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Hermione crying in my arms.

"Hermione? _Malfoy? _What in the name of Merlin is going on in here?"

"Harry!" Hermione half-shrieks, leaping from my arms like my touch burns her. "You didn't say you were coming over."

"Just to give you this. It's scan pictures…Ginny, you know…um… I'll just come back tonight." He scuttles off as fast as he possibly can, and the front door slams behind him. Hermione seems to decide that we aren't going to talk about the interruption and the surprising amount of tact Potter was able to show, despite the odd situation we'd all found ourselves in.

"The money thing isn't an issue," she says, lightly. "The money the Ministry house was getting for your board and so on has transferred to me. And even if it hadn't, I am pretty damn well off. I got a lot of money for the biography book deal, and the press - well, if you tell anyone this I'll hex you into next month, by the way - they paid me compensation after I had my breakdown. An out of court, very private deal."

"Can I ask how much?"

"One million Galleons," she says, calmly. "Around the equivalent of three million pounds in Muggle money."

"Are you joking?" I say, choking on my tea. She bangs me on the back.

"I am not. I didn't ask for it. I wanted to sue the living daylights out of them. Harry, Kingsley and Ron made me see that it wouldn't help. Shutting the paper down would just make me look petty, but compensation in secret and a very public apology would make the world see that they were the ones in the wrong."

"Good Merlin."

"Indeed. We shall buy you a coat, and how about a trip to the cinema?"

"Cinema?"

"You can watch movies there. Like the television shows, but they last for longer. It's good fun, and there are some good films on at the moment." She'd explained television to me the night before, and I'd found it fascinating to see all the different shows.

"OK."

"Oh, and Draco, we're going out into the Muggle world, so dress appropriately. Also, it is unlikely that we'll be followed by the press because of where we'll be, but if we are, just keep your head down and for pity's sake don't say anything except 'I do not want you to photograph me' or anything along those lines."

So we go out and do some shopping. Hermione makes me try on several coats, before we settle on one that is warm, stylish and practical. She also does some shopping for herself, purchasing an emerald green jumper and a new office skirt. She tells me that her old ones are getting a little tight, what with her putting on some weight. We stand outside the 'cinema' and peruse the posters. She lets me chose, and I decide on The Rise of the Planet of the Apes, because it looks interesting. She buys our tickets and a drink each, both of us declaring that we aren't hungry.

I have to admit, it's a novel experience. The screen is huge, and when the lights go down and the adverts start, I'm almost frightened by the volume. There are a lot of adverts, but some of the 'trailers', as Hermione calls them in a whisper, do look pretty good. The film is good, and I find it fun to watch. It seems a very short time until the 'credits' roll, and people start leaving their seats.

"Well, how was your first Muggle activity?"

"It was good. I don't think I'd want to do it every day, but it was very good fun. And the drink was nice - Pepsi, you called it?"

"Yes, it's a fizzy drink. I hear you tried 7-Up the other day."

"I did. The Muggle world is quite interesting, you know. And it has some good ideas." She smiles. "Did you hear that, Hermione?"

"Hear what?"

"The sound of my father turning in his grave." She swipes at my arm, but there's a smile on her face regardless.

"Draco!"

"What. He wasn't a good father, Hermione. In fact, he was rubbish. Not violent or anything, he just didn't care. Didn't have anything to do with me as a child, and when he did start having anything to do with me or taking an interest, it was because he was grooming me to join the Death Eaters and kill people. He was not a nice man."

"I can't really sympathise, Draco."

"Tell me about your parents." She takes my arm as we round the corner into a dingy alley, and Apparates us back to her cottage.

"My parents were dentists. Before we knew I was a witch - I didn't do anything truly outrageous when I was a child. I made lots of coloured lights appear and brought the occasional flower back to life, but nothing too mad. Anyway, before we knew why all that was happening, they never made me feel like I was wrong, or bad, or wicked for what was happening, unlike Harry's family. When the letter arrived, they were so proud of me. But before that, when I was a child, I can't remember ever being left with a babysitter. They did everything they could to make sure I had a happy childhood. They were always there. We used to go on a holiday once a year, always to Wales. Different places in it, but always Wales. We'd go pony-trekking, and had days on the beach, we visited castles and open farms, zoos and stately homes. We went hiking, and biking, and even once went water-skiing, although I can't say that was my favourite. I liked the castles and the houses, and the walking. All good fun. But most of all, they were just there for me. Even when my world became something they didn't understand and was slightly frightening for them, they stayed supportive. I was their only one, and letting me go off to Hogwarts was a huge break for them. They were so proud of me."

"Could I meet them?"

"They died, Draco. I did everything I could to protect them when the war started, wiping their memories of any trace of me, building them new lives. I got them out of the Death Eater's way and then they were killed in a bloody lightening storm. I protected them from everything but the world. My best wasn't enough. I miss them every day. I brought them back here, buried them and so on. Mourned, started getting over it."

"I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault. You didn't send that lightening strike."

"No, I suppose not."

"Do you want some dinner? I can teach you how to cook."


	15. Chapter 15

HPOV

Life with Draco settles into a routine quickly. He's tidy, and organised, so we don't have to argue about messes and washing up. I teach how to use all manner of Muggle appliances, from the television remote to the washing machine and tumble dryer. He's pretty quick to pick it up, and he only shrinks one load of laundry. He's terribly apologetic, but I don't mind too much. Some of the damage was fixable, and what wasn't was easily replaceable. He's good at fixing things too, as we both discover when my old battered watch finally decides it's had enough. He notices, acquires a book of fixing them from somewhere, and does it for me one evening. He presents it solemnly the next morning, and asks if anything else needs looking at.

He brings me a cup of tea on Friday. He always does.

"Just as you like it, stewed and strong."

"Thanks, Draco. Have you had any lunch yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well, I'm not in the mood for Ministry canteen food. Want to go out and grab a sandwich?"

"I said I'd eat with Blaise -"

"Then I'll go with Anna," I say, smiling.

"You could come with us."

"No, thank you," I say, tartly.

"Hermione, why don't you like Blaise? I mean, you've been able to forgive me, how can you not forgive him?"

"Because, Draco, you have changed. You took your punishment, you served your time and you are trying to turn your life around. He, on the other hand, is the same slimy snake he always was, and is still an arrogant son of a bitch. The world knows that his mother was involved with Voldemort, the world knows that he knew what was happening and did nothing. But after the war, off he bloody goes to the South of France and doesn't hang around to even try and defend himself."

"He didn't do anything wrong -"

"That's the whole point, Draco. He did nothing. He may not have fought with the Dark, but he didn't fight with us either. He didn't care enough to choose, and that's why he infuriates me. I chose. I chose when I was eleven years old, and then made that choice again and again. I chose to fight with Harry, and those choices cost me, again and again. I will carry the scars until the day I die, and I will carry them proudly. But he did _nothing. _And so far as I am concerned, he is a coward and he may as well have fought for Voldemort." He looks at me like he understands.

"I understand, Hermione, and I was angry with him too. But first and foremost, Blaise is a politician. He's been trained since birth to take no sides, but to quietly do what he believes to be correct. It's true that he didn't fight on the side of the Order, but he did it because he was assuring himself of safety. If Voldemort won, his family had always been supporters, even though Blaise had never been involved. And if we won, which we did, he was never involved with Voldemort, and could walk away. The man is a true Slytherin, cunning and calculating. But those qualities do not make him a bad person, or a coward."

"I suppose you're just a better person than me," I say, and even I can hear the bitterness in my voice. He lets it go, and slips out on some errand. I carry on with some paperwork. Things need to be signed and read, but beyond registering what they say, I barely even know what I'm reading. I'm aware that the temperature is too high. But there are spells keeping it regulated, it cannot be too hot in this room. But it is, and I feel so sick and dizzy. The tea, I think hazily. There was something in my tea.

DPOV

Anna and I both hear the crash, but I get there first. Hermione is on the floor, looking paler than I've ever seen her, with blood trickling from a cut on her forehead.

"Hermione?" Anna slips around me, crouches beside her. "Open your eyes if you can hear me!" When Hermione doesn't respond, Anna checks her breathing. "Draco, go to the Minister now, tell him that Hermione has collapsed, and I need a medi-witch here. Go, run!" I run, rocketing past people without worrying if I hit them or not. I don't even knock on Kingsley's door, just bolt past his secretary.

"Draco, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It's Hermione, she's collapsed. Anna sent me, she needs a medi-witch. Hermione's unconscious, and I think she hit her head, there's blood. You've got to do something!"

"I'm coming, lets go, come on!" Hermione looks no better, if anything she looks worse.

"Minister, thank God."

"There's a medi-witch on the way, but I'm trained. She's breathing?"

"Yes, but her pulse is thready and weak. The cut on her head is superficial, I think she caught her head on the desk as she fainted."

"Any idea what brought this on?"

"I think I might know, but to tell you would breach a confidence."

"Then you can tell St Mungo's, they're obliged to keep confidences." He sniffs the air. "Can anybody else smell - I don't know -"

"Bitter almonds!" Anna screams suddenly. "Its cyanide!"

"What the hell is cyanide?"

"It's a poison. It smells like bitter almonds, and it's deadly. But the only thing it could have been in is her tea."

"Who brings her the tea?"

"I do, but somebody brings it up from the canteen. I take it at the door to Anna's office and bring it straight through."

"He didn't touch it Minister, I can vouch for that. I was here the whole time, he took the tray like always, and took it straight there. I can see him the whole time."

"Anna, find out who brought the tea up. I want the carrier in my office within one hour."

They take her immediately, and Anna flies into action. She sends me to the canteen, which might not have been the best idea she's had. Rage is well and truly kicked in, and right now it's overlaying the sheer panic. Hermione has got through much worse than this - she can survive it, I know it.

"Who brought the tea?" I bark, and a waitress drops her tray with a gasp.

"Mr Malfoy, I -"

"Hermione Granger's tea, who made it and who brought it to her office?"

"I made it, Jonny took it."

"Then you go find Jonny, you bring him here, and then you are both coming with me."

"I beg your pardon, Mr Malfoy?"

"She has been poisoned. Somebody put cyanide in her tea, and so help me God, I will tear apart the person who did it with my own bare hands if she dies. So you go and find Jonny, and you do it now." She goes a little pale, and then turns towards a door in the far wall.

"Jonny, you need to come out here." A tall, gangly looking youth appears, who I recognise as being the boy who brought the tea earlier.

"What's _he_ doing?" Jonny says, a sneer twisting his lips.

"Jonny, somebody has poisoned Miss Granger. The Minister of Magic wants to see us."

"Why doesn't the Minister want to see him? He's the Death Eater. If anybody poisoned her, it's him."

"Jonny!" says the waitress, looking genuinely shocked.

"Jonny, I seriously suggest you shut up and come with me. I happen to be in the clear for this one. I am supervised constantly, I am never on my own. I am the only one right now who handled that tea who has any sort of alibi at all. Now you better hope that the time we've wasted doesn't impact on Hermione any more than cyanide already has, or I swear, I will use everything I ever learned as a Death Eater to make your final hours on this Earth the most painful of your existence, am I clear?" I seem to be, and we go down as fast as I can hurry them. I'm not allowed to sit in, but I beg Kingsley to organise an escort for me.

"What for?"

"To go to Hermione." He looks at me.

"As it happens, Mr Potter is on his way here to get you anyway. Wait in the Atrium for him."

"Thank you, Sir, thank you."

Harry is white as a sheet when he gets to me, shrugging of the people asking questions.

"Malfoy, what the fuck happened?" he demands, seizing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

"Cyanide, somebody put cyanide in her tea."

"You'd better be joking, Malfoy, tell me this is just a really shit joke."

"Does it look like it, Potter?" He doesn't say anything else, just grabs me by the upper arm and Apparates us both out of the Ministry. He doesn't let go of my arm once we reach St Mungo's, just dragging me down corridors. "Shouldn't we ask someone where she is?"

"I don't need to ask somebody, Malfoy, I know where she is. She is my best friend, I can find her on my bloody own."

"Well would you be nice enough to stop dragging, I can walk perfectly well on my own."

"Look, Malfoy, lets get one thing straight. I'm technically in charge of you right now - Hermione signed some document saying that if anything ever incapacitated her, she wanted me to be the one to baby-sit. But I honestly do not give a shit what you do. For all I care, you're free to go anywhere you bloody want."

"That's nice then. Because I'm not leaving Hermione, so I guess we're both just going to be in the same place at the same time."

"Fine." A nurse suddenly appears from nowhere.

"Mr Potter, I thought I heard your dulcet tones. Kindly keep it down, there are people here who need rest."

"Whatever. Where is she, how is she, can I see her?"

"She's in there, she's very ill and no, you cannot see her just yet. And if you make a fuss about that, Mr Potter, I will have you removed from this hospital."

"Excuse me, but I need to speak to you. I have information that you might need to know."

"Then come with me. Mr Potter, you wait here and you do not move, understood?"

The nurse leads me into another room, and shuts the door.

"What do you need to say?"

"She's taking some Potions. Dreamless Sleep Reliever, and Healer 245."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think she's been addicted for six months, Severus Snape gave her the Potions. She's been taking them for a month. Harry doesn't know. You can't tell him."

"Patient confidentiality will be acknowledged, Mr Malfoy."

"Thank you. Save her. Please save her."

"We're doing our best." She looks at me and sighs. "She ingested a massive amount of cyanide. We're doing what we can, but her chances are slim. She has to fight, and at the moment she isn't. We can heal the damage, but not stop the progress. She needs a Muggle hospital, it's a Muggle poison. We're arranging her transfer."

"I'll tell Potter - I mean Harry."

HarryPOV

I'm going to wear a groove in the floor if I keep pacing. Hermione is all of six feet away from me, fighting for her life again, and they won't let me see her. But Malfoy seems to know something important, so off he goes and now he's disappeared too. But that seems temporary, as the nurse leaves the room, and comes back with Malfoy in tow. The nurse goes back in to Hermione, but Malfoy approaches me.

"They're transferring her."

"Where to?"

"A Muggle hospital, they didn't say which one. It's a Muggle poison."

"I see. Ginny's been on the phone."

"Telephone?" he asks, curiously. I wonder how he's been with Hermione, who does more or less everything the Muggle way.

"A mobile, you can take it places with you. I've done some spells so the bloody thing works here. She says you're welcome to stay with us until Hermione is better."

"Is that what Ginny says?"

"Yes, that's what Ginny says. I don't care as I told you, but Hermione would murder me if I let you go back to the safe house." The nurse comes back before he can respond to that.

"We're transferring Miss Granger to West Middlesex now. She'll be treated there by a wizard with Muggle medical training, so secrecy isn't an issue. This is the name of the doctor, and he has been made aware of the situation. Harry, you will come back, and let me know how she does?"

"Of course."

Draco waits until we're in my car. We had to Apparate home, not just to pick up Ginny, but to get a car. I don't think Hermione will want to go anywhere by Apparation after a stint in hospital.

"How did that nurse know you?"

"Liz nursed Hermione two years ago."

"When she tried to kill herself."

"How did you know that?"

"She told me, as hard as you may find that to believe, Potter."

"Oh shut up, both of you! Harry, Hermione has decided to not blame Draco for whatever happened and stuff, so that means she's right because she always is. Draco, accept and understand that this is difficult from everyone. Now shut up, and for goodness sake, get us to the bloody hospital."


	16. Chapter 16

DPOV

Her being ill gets to me far more than I had ever imagined it would. I want her alive, I need her back. Potter and Ginny take excellent care of me, but I'm used to Hermione's absolute order and neatness, and the Muggle ways she did the little everyday tasks. Potter and Ginny use magic for everything, and I feel the loss of my wand keenly. They don't mean it, it's just how they do things, but I feel the lack of my wand more than ever. Ginny is more smiley that I've ever seen her, and is starting to show a little bit, just a small curve in the belly. She's glowing with it though, and looks vital and healthy. She's nicer to me than Potter, but then again, she never knew me personally at school. True, I was vile to her brother and his friends, but I think not having direct contact helped. While Potter is at the hospital for what seems like the hundredth time, Ginny is bustling about cheerfully, while I essentially sit around wringing my hands.

She eventually decides that I've been sulking long enough, and sits down with me, having made me a cup of tea.

"Hermione takes it strong enough to stand a spoon in, but I figured you had milder tastes. She's going to be alright, you know."

"I know, but I feel so bloody useless."

"Me too. Harry keeps running off with the car to stop us clucking around at the hospital. I can't Apparate while I'm knocked up and you don't have a wand so you can't."

"We could get on a bus."

"Never been on one."

"I have. I assume you can use the internet?"

"Yes, Harry showed me."

"Then lets a bus timetable to West Middlesex hospital."

GPOV

"I'm assuming you did this with Hermione? Got on a bus?"

"Yes. She took me shopping, and to the cinema. Said I need the experience."

"I can't believe it - my family is one of the biggest lot of blood-traitors on the books, and you're so Pureblood it's like it's tattooed on your forehead, and you went on a bus first. My father is going to love that."

"My father's rolling in his grave."

"I didn't know he'd died."

"He got into a fight in Azkaban. Pissed somebody off a great deal, and they got pissed off enough to shove a knife into him multiple times. It was pretty hushed up, it wasn't something the Ministry wanted everybody to know. He was a bastard, and he got what he deserved."

"Was it you?" He looks at me. "Sorry, I just thought maybe you wanted somebody to ask."

"It wasn't me, Ginny. I did think about it. But in the end somebody else got there first."

"Am I sorry?"

"No. And I don't need sympathy about it. My parents weren't good people, and they were also pretty rubbish at being parents."

"Heavy. We get off here, by the look of things. Can you remember the way?"

"I can." Ten minutes later, he admits he can't remember the way. I roll my eyes, and we drag down to Reception again. We're directed to a totally different part of the hospital. "Not a word, Ginny," he says, laughing. "Not a word." We finally track her down, and she seems to look healthier. She's not as deadly pale as she was, and the cut on her forehead is less livid against her skin. There's no sign of Harry anywhere. The nurse who shows us in to her little side ward is friendly as she checks Hermione over.

"Her temperatures down a point or two, her pulse is regular and her blood pressure is decreasing and approaching normal again. But it's going to be a slow recovery, she's not in very good health in general. Been a while since we saw cyanide poisoning. She must be somebody pretty important, we've barely been told anything about her."

"She helped save lives. She sacrificed a lot doing that."

"We're doing everything we can. I expect she'll make it through. She looks like she's suffered enough."

"Thank you. Oh, do you know where Harry went? He should have been here -"

"I think he went to get a sandwich or something."

"Thank you." Draco is already leaning over her, stroking her hair back from her face.

"When was the last time somebody brushed her hair? She wouldn't want to be like this."

"She always was a neat freak. Here, use this." I watch him brush her hair gently, picking her up so he can get to the back. He's so gentle with her, barely jolting her at all, and not pulling on any of the tangles. He finishes up just as Harry comes back in.

"I see you two finally worked out that a bus is a valid means of transport. I got you cheese, Ginny, and Malfoy, I noticed your penchant for chicken, so I got you chicken salad. I got Hermione some face wipes. You can do that, nursey."

"Nursey?"

"You were the one combing her hair."

"That makes me her bitch, not her nurse."

"Very true, nice to see you know your place in Hermione's life."

"You brought her face wipes, what does that make you in Hermione Granger's personal food chain?"

"Whipping boy, it's one step up from bitch. Ginny here is her - I don't know dear, what would you say you were?"

"Her absolute equal, making you two my whipping boy and bitch respectively. You're the bitch, Harry."

"Know your place, Potter, know your place."


	17. Chapter 17

HarryPOV

Kingsley drops by to visit Hermione when she's been hospitalized for a week.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but it's been chaos."

"Do you know who did it yet?"

"We're looking. The waitress and Jonny are in the clear, we've questioned them under Veritaserum. Seamus has had pretty much his entire department on this, and we've assigned an Auror."

"Is this Auror any good?"

"No Harry, I put somebody totally rubbish and inexperienced on it. It's John, for future reference."

"He'll do."

"What do you want, Harry? We are going to find whoever did this. How is she?"

"Everything's normal now, they think the cyanide's out of her system. They're waking her up today."

"They put her under?"

"They had to pump her stomach, and flushed her system. She was in such a mess after they just chose to sedate her. They're hoping that it will have helped her body heal in general. Apparently she was in a terrible bloody state, but the doctor won't tell me how she got into it. Draco seems to know, keeps biting his nails and looking worried."

"Maybe she can tell you herself, when she's better?"

"Maybe, but you know Hermione." He's quiet for a while, then reaches over and pushes a lock of her hair off her forehead. "It's in the press. It's provoked a response - I get triple the mail I usually do, all berating me for not having caught the person. I've got Luna doing statements every day to assure people she's getting better. I'll get one out today, to state that she's awake."

"At least people care. Any more articles from that lunatic who was yelling about her being a Death Eater?"

"None. The new _Prophet _editor has a modicum of common sense."

"Nice to hear that. So, did Hawtree jump before he was pushed, or did you just push?"

"He jumped, but Hermione was rather holding him at gunpoint when he did."

"Which article was that after?"

"I forget."

He stays as long as he can, but he has to go back pretty soon. I imagine that his job is a twenty-four ruthless hours sort of thing. Malfoy shows back up eventually, Ginny in tow. I can't believe they figured out the buses. I can't believe _Malfoy_ was the ringleader in all that. I didn't want them to have to worry about her, and I figured keeping them away from the hospital would be best, especially for Ginny. I didn't want her to have to worry. He and my wife, I notice, have struck up a reasonable friendship. That hurts more than anything. I look at Malfoy, and I blame him. And I might not hate him now, but I still need to blame him, because I have to blame somebody.

Hermione stirs, interrupting my train of thought. She looks so fragile as I shove Malfoy quite brutally to one side and bend over her. There's a clatter as Draco falls over her bedside trolley, but I ignore it, stroking her hair back from her face.

"I'm going to be sick," she mumbles, going green. Ginny shoves a bowl under her face, and I hold her hair back. "Draco," she slurs, looking round. He bends over her too, nudging me aside.

"Right here."

"Don't blame you. Not you."

"Thanks, Granger," he says, sounding a little tearful.

"S'alright, Malfoy." She focuses a little more. "You need a shave, Harry."

"I've been telling him that all week."

"You alright, Ginny?"

"Am I alright? You were the one who got poisoned. And gave your brains quite a nasty bang as you fainted."

"I'm so tired." The doctor comes in at this moment, and smiles down at Hermione.

"So, you're back with us, Miss Granger. Nice of you all to tell me she'd woken up. How do you feel?"

"Like absolute hell."

"You look it too, I'm afraid. Anything sore?"

"Headache, feel sick."

"Side-effects, they'll go pretty soon. Get some sleep if you want it, and if you vomit again, I need to be told, alright?"

"Thank you."

"Who is acting as Miss Granger's next of kin?"

"I suppose I am," I say.

"Can I speak to you, outside?"

I follow him into the hallway, and he looks grave.

"Mr Potter, we need to discuss Miss Granger's state of general health, or lack thereof. She hasn't been taking care of herself. She's underweight, although having seen her St Mungo's record, she is at least closer to a healthy weight than she was. She's physically exhausted, mentally drained, and her system is more or less wrecked. Whatever she's addicted to -"

"What, addicted? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I assumed you knew - her system has been more or less destroyed by some very powerful drugs. She's dangerously close to kidney failure, but I should think we can Heal most of that. If she carries on, she's going to kill herself within a year."

"I didn't even know -"

"Nor did we, until Mr Malfoy informed us."

"He knew?"

"Yes, and by all accounts, he's saving her life. She needs looking after. Not just from rogue poisoners, but from whatever mess she's gotten herself into."

I wait. Credit to me, I wait. And considering that, I do think that I deserve a little more credit than I get.

"You, you fucking lying snake!" I bellow, before landing a punch onto his mouth. He staggers back, looking shocked as his hands fly to his face.

"Harry, what the fuck are you doing?" Ginny screams.

"You knew that Hermione was a drug addict, and you chose to say nothing?"

"What?" Ginny looks from me to him, shock on her face.

"I chose to say nothing because she asked me to say nothing. Jesus, Potter, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"With me?"

"Yes, with you! I'm bleeding, you fucker!"

"OK, that is _enough, _both of you!" Ginny hollers, glaring at as both. "Harry, you apologise right now. Draco couldn't tell us."

"I am not apologising to him."

"Do it, Harry," Ginny says, her voice taking on a dangerous tone.

"He is responsible for the death of your brother, or have you completely forgotten Fred?" Her smack lands across my face before I can even process being such a bastard to her. Tears are sparkling in her eyes.

"Don't you dare say that to me," she whispers. "Don't you dare. Ever. Draco is not the person who killed Fred, the bitch who did that is dead, buried in her miserable grave, and by God, I hope she is burning in hell. Every single say, I miss Fred. Every day. No, don't you even speak to me, Harry. And you don't blame Draco, you just blame the world. Don't take it out on him because you can't handle your anger and hate. I'm going off to Hermione's place now, she needs some things. I'm staying there tonight, you get yourself pulled together Harry, because you are going to be a father soon, and six years is too damn long to be so full of hate you can't even see what's good and bad."

"I know the difference between good and bad, Ginny."

"You can tell the difference between good and bad people, Harry, there is a huge difference. Knowing what is good and bad in the world isn't the same. You spent so long fighting against true evil that now it's over you see it everywhere. Voldemort is dead Harry, and the people who killed the people we loved are dead too, so you need to start letting the hell go."

She slammed out the house, and Draco went with her. It's the worst fight we've ever had. I've never been that mean to her, never said things to make her feel bad with the intent of making her feel guilty. We've never it out at each other with such will and determination, never slapped at each other to hurt. She's so right, she's always been right. Hermione's turned her anger into sheer despair, let it turn inwards and attack her. Ron made his anger into purpose. He's due back from Romania tomorrow, where he's been with his brother Charlie helping dragons. He couldn't come sooner, but his panic and fear on the telephone were enough. Hermione was always the one who never gave up, who never stopped fighting no matter what. Now somebody has targeted her specifically, somebody has tried to kill her. He's coming back, that's what counts.

But I kept hold of all my anger. I didn't let it go, because I couldn't find an outlet. I kept it all bottled up. And now it's just built up to the point where it attacks the people around me, until I literally cannot tell when I should be angry, I'm just angry. It's time I learnt to deal with it. But Hermione has to be better first, Hermione has to be back on the road to recovery before I can put myself first. I'm sure Ginny would disagree, but I need Hermione to be better. She's the glue in a lot of ways, I suppose. Certainly Ron and I wouldn't have gotten as far as we did without her help. And while I'm being honest, we would have lost the entire war with out her. She's the hero, not me. She is the real saviour of the world_._


	18. Chapter 18

GPOV

Hermione looks up as I open the door and slip round. She smiles at me, and puts aside her work. Her doctor looks up and looks hopeful.

"Ginny, good to see you again. Can you please make this exceptionally naughty witch rest, and understand that the words rest and recuperation don't mean taking an opportunity to work. I'm starting to fear for my job."

"I'll try doctor, but I hold out little hope for success."

"I'll be back in four hours, Hermione. I mean it, you best have finished working."

"Hello, Ginny."

"Morning, Hermione. I brought you some things from Mum."

"Did you also bring me the reason why you and Harry aren't speaking to each other?"

"Do you notice everything."

"Yes, I do, which you should know by now. What did he say?"

"How'd you know it was him."

"Because he's a tactless bastard, for all I love him. So, what did he say?"

"He's been having issues."

"With Draco."

"Yes. You know how he's been since the end of the war. He never dealt with it, Hermione, not really. At least you tried. Didn't deal with it well, but you tried. Ron did the best out of all of us, but Harry never really tried. After the war, when he and I went away together, I thought he was dealing with it. I thought it was OK. He seemed to be getting better. He was so happy at the wedding. And in the honeymoon was so lovely. He seemed so carefree, and I never saw him like that before. All of a sudden he could just be Harry, and he wasn't carrying all the cares about having to be the one who'd kill Voldemort. But then when we got back, it started getting obvious that he wasn't happy. He'd be so down sometimes and so quiet. But then I got pregnant, and he seemed so happy again. And then we had a row. Last night, he was so hurtful."

"Well bloody hell, Ginny, what did he say?"

"He asked me if I'd forgotten that Fred died because of Draco."

"You'd best be joking."

"I slept at your place last night."

"You didn't leave Draco with Harry, did you?"

"No, no."

"I can beat him mercilessly if you like. I would, you know."

"I know you would. I'm not sure if I'm pleased or not."

"I will talk to him, Ginny. And you know it."

"I do. I need you and Ron to tag team him. He needs to get some counselling or something. Something has to give. I won't let my baby be raised like this, when Harry still can't fight his demons."

"When does Ron get here?"

"Harry's bringing him, they should be here any moment actually. I left Draco in the café, we're going to have lunch together. He's ordering me sausage chips and beans."

"With the beans on the chips no doubt."

"Naturally. I can hear them now. Look, Hermione, I'm going to push off quick. I'm not in the mood."

"Alright. Thanks for coming."

"See you later. I'll bring Draco up."

HPOV

Ron comes in alone, and bends over me immediately.

"You look like hell."

"Why thank you Ronald, always the sympathetic one. You look wonderful, Romania's done you the world of good. Charlie treating you alright?"

"Yes, it's fine. How do you feel?"

"Better. Felt worse, so it's alright I suppose."

"Somebody tried to assassinate you, and you say it's alright."

"They're looking for whoever it was, Ron. Kingsley isn't resting on his laurels, Seamus is climbing the walls. Half of his department has been pulling double shifts."

"I know. You haven't been taking good enough care of yourself. Why don't you stop with Harry and Ginny for a bit?"

"I've got Draco with me, he can't be left on his own, Ministry rules are rules. I have to look after him."

"Well if you ask me, he should be looking after you. And speaking of Harry and Ginny, what's the issue with those two? They're avoiding each other like the bloody plague."

"They had a fight."

"A big one?"

"Very. Harry said that Ginny had forgotten that Draco played a part in Fred's death, and implied that she'd forgotten about Fred altogether."

"He didn't."

"He did. Ginny wants us to try and get him to see someone. You know how he was after the War was over. He didn't deal with it Ron. I mean, I know I didn't either, but I'm making some progress. You've done best obviously, but Harry doesn't even seem to be trying. She wants us to double team him."

"Of course. Here, he's coming."

"Look at all this, the old gang back together."

"Yeah, watch the press doesn't catch us, we'll be mobbed," I joke, and the boys laugh.

"Muggle hospital, I doubt they'll be here. I don't think anybody even knows I'm her."

"No, the hulking Auror outside the door isn't a giveaway at all." Harry nudges Ron too late.

"Harry. Did you, or did you not, allow Kingsley to put a bodyguard onto me."

"I did, and there's no use arguing with me, Hermione Jean Granger, he is there and he is staying. And what is more, he will be going everywhere with you until they catch the bastard who did this." I glare at him. "And don't give me that look either."

"Fine. Then we shall proceed with the original order. Harry James Potter, you have some serious explaining to do."

"You do, mate. What do you mean by what you said to Ginny?"

"Ah. So I have been set up."

"Quite so. Get talking, Potter. Ginny wants you to get some help."

"I don't need any help, not the kind you mean."

"Bullshit."

"Hermione!"

"I mean what I say Harry. Ron's probably the only one who's not a complete head case. I know that it might well be quite time I got myself some help too. But you haven't even tried to deal with your issues after the war. You were angry and sad and grieving. We all were. I don't know if you thought that by killing of Voldemort and being this big hero you could deal with your issues well enough so they wouldn't matter. But one act of good doesn't erase all the bad things we all did. Now we must start facing up to them. Six years is too long to wait to start facing up for everything. Every single night, I see the faces of the people I killed, the faces of the people who died in the name of the Light - and indirectly, in our names. And I see my parents. I had a really shit time, and then we all know how that ended. I'm not going back to that, because I won't live through another go. Now you need to seek professional help. We all did things that haunt us, and I don't pretend they'll disappear entirely. But we must be able to manage them. You cannot. What you said to Ginny was absolutely unacceptable." I fold my arms across my chest and look at him balefully. "You will apologise."

"Well obviously. If she hadn't lit out so fast yesterday night, I'd've got down on my knees if that's what it had taken."

"I think that might be what it does take," Ron inserts.

"Harry, we're worried about you, all of us are. You're going to be a dad, the first child of the Golden Trio. You need to be ok for your baby."

"I'm not seeing a shrink."

"Alright, you don't have to," Ron says. "But it is time you found a way to get through it all. I mean, I've got the dragons, and Romania and Charlie. Hermione's got the Ministry and her work, and looking after Malfoy. But you haven't got anything, except Ginny and soon the baby. You need a career or something."

"Or something. Nice to see you're still as articulate as ever, Ron."

"This is why we never worked, Hermione." I giggle at him and stick out my tongue.

"Because I'm amazing and you are plain old weird."

"Indeed. But in all seriousness - a career might be a good thing."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"The Ministry?" Ron's barely got the words out before the three of us start howling with laughter.

"Oh God, Ron, oh God. Harry in the Ministry?" Harry nearly howls laughter, and I try and hush them both through my own laughter. "Hush, hush, this is a hospital." Even so, we can't stop laughing for some time. "My boys, come here." They jump onto my bed, and somehow it's like we're all about sixteen again, pratting about at the Burrow before it all went wiggly, and we just tried to one-up each other. "Ah, you'll get me into trouble with Sister, you two will." I lie back on my pillows and wriggle a bit. "Ron, will you prop me up a little bit? Just move these pillows - that's it. And there! Much more comfy. Now seriously, Harry, we need to find you something to do. You were always very good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. I happen to have something in the pipelines."

"Here, Harry, she's got that look on."

"I know, should I duck and run?"

"Oh, behave. No, you know that a couple of weeks ago, I went back to Hogwarts, and very informative I found it. They're having staffing issues. Professor Vector retires in the summer. July will be her last term. Now, I don't know where they found the current DADA professor, but he simply isn't suited to the job. Flint is, however, bloody good at Ancient Runes. Vector wants him to take her place."

"Thus leaving Hogwarts without a DADA professor."

"Exactly, Ron. So, Harry, what do you say?"

"You want me to take over, don't you."

"It's only half me. Minerva wants you back, Harry. It's the ideal job. You can be with Ginny and the baby they can live with you there. You will be doing something you are passionate about. And I think it'll help you enormously. There are people there that can help you. You need a change more than anything. And going back to Hogwarts worked it's magic on me more than you might know. I want it to do the same for you."

GPOV

Draco and I haven't even been spotted yet. The three of them are bundled onto her bed together, laughing and joking together.

"I haven't seen them all like that for years. You could almost believe they were sixteen again."

"She looks good."

"Of course she does. It's Hermione."

"Shall we disturb them do you think?"

"No. Give them time to have their reunion. It's been a good five years since they were all together like this without the atmosphere being crappy. Come on, we'll have cake. My treat." He offers me his arm, and we go back down to the café. Let them have some time together, to catch up and to laugh and to reunite. It's been too long since they were alone.


	19. Chapter 19

HPOV

The doctors still won't pin down a discharge date for me, and I'm starting to get frustrated by them slipping round the issue. I talk Draco into bringing me some clothes after three weeks. I get up, dress myself, and settle in a chair to wait for the doctor. He frowns at me as soon as he walks in the door.

"Hermione Granger, who said you could get out of bed?"

"I said. Look, how much longer am I going to be here? I feel fine."

"Well, you aren't fine. You're far from it, actually. Hermione, before we start this conversation, I know about the drugs. I know about the Dreamless Sleep and the Valium. Now bearing in mind that I do know all that, I need to talk to you about the state of you. Your kidneys are going to quit on you. If you carry on with the drugs, I give you maybe a month before they give up and go. Your immune system is shot to absolute pieces. You walk out of here, you catch a cold, that's influenza if not full on pneumonia. I'm not happy with you leaving this hospital until you're totally off the drugs."

"Well, I need to get back to work, so staying here is not an option any more. Organise me some outpatient stuff, and discharge me or I'll discharge myself."

"I advise against that."

"Then organise the outpatients. But I am not staying in this bloody hospital any more."

"Fine, you win. But so help me, if you are brought back to this hospital again, I will strap you to the bed myself."

"Then we have a deal. Can I go home today?"

"No, not today. But tomorrow, you can."

"Why not today?"

"Because it's late. And because I need time to arrange outpatients and discuss it with you. We need to work out a programme."

"I already have one, thank you. Severus Snape is helping me."

"Good. You're on the Potions?"

"Yes, every day."

"You still need some help. We need to help you get your kidneys back together. And I'll prescribe you something for the loss of appetite, and for the immune system."

"So, you're going to heal my drug ravaged body by giving me more drugs."

"Sounds weird, I know."

"Damn right."

"Here, let me examine you." He's silent while he does, but smiles at me. "You seem alright. As alright as you can be anyway. You've got a visitor. Rather handsome young man."

"Is that right? Well, I suppose I can make the time for him."

BPOV

I pace back and forth in front of the nurses station. I can tell that at least one of them is longing to throw something at me, but I'm worried about Hermione. It's taken me too long to build up the courage to go and see her. Her doctor finally comes back to show me in. She's smiling at first, but she wipes it off as soon as she sees me. She doesn't look angry as she did once, but she isn't smiling any more.

"They said there was a handsome young man waiting for me, perhaps you passed him on your way in," she says, dryly.

"Don't be smart, I brought you grapes and everything."

"Oh, thank you," she says.

"I wasn't expecting to find you dressed, Draco said you were bed-bound by the doctors, and that you weren't happy about it."

"Too right."

"When are they letting you out."

"If they had their way, in three weeks."

"And as you're having your way?"

"Tomorrow."

"And when are you coming back to work? The _Prophet _hasn't anything to be shouting about with you gone and your department not making any waves. Of course, they're still going on about not catching the bastard who put you in here."

"Why Blaise, I didn't know you cared."

"Shocking, isn't it? I do, as it happens. It's no fun without you."

"There's nobody to harass you, you mean. I trust my deputy is doing a good job?"

"He's doing very well. He won't implement anything without you, he's frightened of messing up and getting hexed into the next century."

"Kieran isn't frightened of me, he's one of the few who isn't."

"Well, you didn't leave any notes on what you wanted doing first."

"So what is he doing?"

"I don't know. I think he's making sure everything is ship-shape for when you do get back. For a start, he's sorted out your so-called filing system. One drawer stuffed full of absolutely every bit of paperwork you have ever received or filled out is not a system."

"It's organised chaos. I knew where everything was, it was all in that drawer. I shan't be happy if he's been mucking about with my drawers."

"Well, he has been, and now you have a system. Anna knows how it all works, so she can explain. You need anything bringing tomorrow for going home?"

"No, Harry and Ron are bringing me everything I need."

"I didn't know Ron was back."

"He's staying back, I think. I think he's a little disenchanted with Romania, it's been four years. He's looking to take up a place in the Chudley Cannons, they've been after him for a while now. It's nice to see him again."

"Yeah, it's been a while since the three of you were together, hasn't it? Who's the hulking bloke outside the door?"

"Kingsley and Harry decided I need a bodyguard. Anton is said bodyguard."

"Anton."

"He's the best, so they tell me. He's quite nice actually."

"Who takes over from him when he sleeps?"

"I'm not sure he does."

"He's too big to be a vampire."

"Well, I've not seen him sleep. Maybe he goes when I sleep and get a mystery bodyguard, just to spice up life."

"You've got a few issues. Anyway, I just came to make sure you were healing up alright. You'll be back in on Monday, no doubt, ignoring all advice."

"Of course. With Draco - he's been staying with Harry, but I rather gather it's not running smoothly."

"Did you expect it to?"

"I wasn't bloody conscious, was I?"

"No, that's true. Anyway, enjoy your grapes, I suppose I'd better be getting off."

"Do you have to go?"

"I don't, not if you'd rather I didn't." She bites her lip.

"I don't like it when I'm on my own. I keep seeing - oh, it's silly."

"Like heck. You need to talk to me, you go on ahead and talk."

"I don't know why I'd even tell you this. I - we don't even like each other."

"You don't like me, is more accurate. I never had a problem with you - not after Hogwarts. And not even then, not really. Hermione, I was an unimaginable arse, I'm not denying that, and I'm not asking you to forgive me yet. But one day, I'd like it if you did."

"I see the tea. Over and over again, I see that cup. And something bothers me about it. I check everything that is given to me, Blaise. Everything I get given, I make sure it isn't poison. I cast all the spells. But I didn't with that cup of tea. I didn't check it."

"You think -"

"I think someone either put a spell on the cup, or on me. I always check, Blaise, I never forget. Ever. But that day, I forgot, and it nearly killed me. I have never once believed in coincidence."

"Have you told Harry?"

"I haven't told anyone. How paranoid would they think me, Blaise, checking my food to see if it's poison? Harry already thinks I'm unstable. Nobody must know -"

"What crap you talk. Of course Kingsley has to be told. This might be a lead."

"Fine, but you can tell him."

"Alright, but I'm damn well going to. Don't think I'll just forget and get bogged down in work, because I won't."

"That would be very difficult, I don't think you actually do any work. What is the point behind your department?"

"To research historical artefacts and make sure nobody loses any laws so your department can then get down to poking around and reforming stuff. I exist essentially to make you happy."

"I'll bear that in mind next time I need a favour."

"I'm going regret saying that, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah."

"You got a time for being let out tomorrow? I'll drive you and Draco back to your place. And Anton as well, of course."

"Yes, and Anton."

"Is he going to be a permanent fixture? Like at the Ministry and everything?"

"He's going to be a permanent fixture. Like escort to the bathroom permanent."

"Nice."

"Well he's cute, Blaise. Could be an awful lot worse." She smirks at me when I quirk an eyebrow at her. "What? You think I was all good at Hogwarts?"

"Trust me Hermione, I don't want to know. Believe me, I don't want to know about what you did with Weasley and Potter."

"Weasley was after Hogwarts."

"Oh, Granger, I thought you had standards."

"Lets not be getting into this Zabini, I know I can make you look worse that I do any day of the week."

"You probably good." A bell rings loudly. "That's visiting end. I'm going to have to go now, and you should get some rest. I can send Anton in to keep you company."

"Do, he's reading this book I leant him, and we've been chatting about it from time to time."

"Hermione, I liked this. Us talking like this and not taking quick, cheap goes at each other. I'm not asking for you to become my best friend. But I'd like it a lot if we could start trying to be friends."

"I could probably start working on that Blaise." I go over to the door, and put my hand on the handle. But before I go, I look back at her.

"I'm sorry about Hogwarts, Hermione."

"Yeah, Blaise. I know that."


	20. Chapter 20

DPOV

Blaise offers to help me get Hermione back to her cottage, but Harry turns down his offer quite firmly. He picks her up with me in tow, and drives us all back to her cottage. Anton sweeps the place first, ignoring Harry when he points out the house has been inhabited constantly. He's not exactly the most talkative type, but he seems thorough. He and Hermione do have some sort of understanding, and have formed a little bond over books and cooking. I don't think she's entirely happy that he's only about because Harry and Kingsley shanghaied her into it while she couldn't fully protest, but she's trying to forget that he's here to guard her body.

Anton finally satisfies himself that there's no bomb under Hermione's bed and no poison in the bath-taps, and lets us carry her in. Well, he says she can be taken in, only for us to find out she's been inside for five minutes with Ginny. She snuck in with her while Harry and I were wondering if she'd let us carry her. She's clattering about complaining about the state of her kitchen.

"Draco, couldn't you have dusted?"

"Ginny dusted."

"Ginny can't dust to save her life. Oh well, lets get a duster out and -"

"Over my dead body," Harry says, firmly. "Go into the living room, sit down on that sofa. Draco and I can make you dinner."

"No, you can't cook, and I want to live. You can go on home, Ginny, and take your troublesome husband with you. You must be tired."

"It's fine, Hermione," Ginny assures her, completely missing the point.

"Ginny, please take him home."

"I see. Yes, Harry, come along. Hermione will be fine." Harry seems to just give in and shrugs. He and Ginny make sure she's settled, and then depart. I can hear Anton clattering about in the kitchen, having set up enough protective spells to repel insects.

"I put fresh sheets onto your bed, I washed your things through and I got the electric blanket onto timer for a hours time. So, by the time you go to bed, it'll be nice and warm.

"Oh, Draco, you didn't have to."

"Yes I did. I'm meant to look after you. Harry said so."

"I don't care what Harry said. I'm not a baby. I'm going back to work on Monday."

"I'm amazed that you will wait that long. Wow, whatever Anton is cooking smells bloody amazing."

"I agree. And it seems kind of strange going in on a Friday. And besides, it gives Kevin time to put everything into order for me to come back. I told Kingsley to warn him."

"Who actually is Kevin? I mean, I don't think I've ever met him."

"You haven't. Comes to that, I never met him before I started, he's been quite ill. He took a lateral step from Law Enforcement because he couldn't handle the physicality any longer."

"What's - I mean, you know, why's he ill?"

"Prostate cancer, I think. St Mungo's can't do anything about it, they're saying he's got about another year. But he is very good at his job."

"Jesus."

"Quite." She yawns widely, and I'm on the alert right off.

"You tired?"

"A bit."

"Well, why don't you put your feet up before dinner, maybe get a nap while I help Anton? We can wake you for dinner then you can go straight to bed."

"I need a bath."

"Well, why don't you grab one now? It'll take you about one second to magic it up."

"I think I will."

"I'll put some nice, fresh pyjamas on your radiator so they warm through. You want your fleecy ones?"

"Yes, please."

She comes down to dinner with her hair loose. I realise I haven't ever seen her with it down, always scraped up into a tight, official bun, and charmed to stay perfect.

"You should wear your hair like that more often."

"No, it's not professional. Anton, this is lovely. What is it?"

"Beef in white wine sauce. Untraditional, as beef is generally served in red wine, but I know you don't like it. And I roasted the potatoes in dripping."

"You should write a cook book."

"I haven't got time to write a cook book."

"You'd have time if you weren't watching me."

"Nice try."

"Draco, you did get a room ready for Anton?"

"I did. Who actually does the night shift, or do you just not sleep?"

"I sleep. I have a counterpart, his name is George. But as you never see him, it doesn't matter."

"True, I suppose. Do we give him breakfast?"

"He's here from midnight until eight am. He doesn't need breakfast."

"What about coffee?"

"He has a thermos."

"Do you ever say more than three sentences?"

"No."

I put her into bed and tuck her in firmly.

"You want the window open?"

"Yes, please."

"Are you plenty warm enough? Shall I leave the blanket on?"

"Yes, I'm warm enough and yes leave the blanket on. Is the switch nearby?"

"Yes, just here on your table. Now, here are the rules for tomorrow. I shall bring you some toast, bacon and fried eggs at eight o clock. Until you have eaten it and drunk the tea I bring you, you will not move from this bed."

"Yes, Sir," she says, jokingly.

"I'm serious."

"I know, I know. Alright, but I am getting up right after that, and I will not be treated as an invalid. We are going to do some nice cleaning."

"Fine, we can clean, and then we are taking it easy. You can teach me how to use the Internet."

"Yes, we could do some online shopping. They have a sale on New Look shoes."

"This is a Muggle store?"

"It is."

"Alright, enough chat. I'm going to turn the light out on my way out - _no reading."_

"Are you going to be OK, Draco?"

"What do you mean? Oh, the nightmares. I think so."

"Well, you can come in with me if they get bad again."

"They'd have to be really bad, I don't want you to have a disturbed night."

"But you will come," she persists, looking worried. I try and calm her down - I'm not going to let her get stressed out and then she won't sleep, I know her.

"Alright, I'll come if they get bad, I promise. Now for goodness sake will you lie down and go to sleep."

"Alright. Good night."

"And you."

At three in the morning, I'm woken up by Anton. I can hear him moving steadily along the landing. I get up immediately, knowing somehow that something is wrong. I don't want Hermione disturbed.

"Anton," I murmur, knowing that a very low voice will carry less than a whisper. "What is it?"

"Somebody in the garden. George is scanning them now."

"How did he get through your wards?"

"Not now, Malfoy. We can't talk here." We creep downstairs, trying to miss the creaky ones. George is as massive as Anton, but equally stealthy.

"Can't see anybody. No spells revealing them."

"So how do you know they're out there?"

"We saw him. He wants us to know he's here, and he is very, very good at magic." Suddenly, there is a crash from Hermione's room, and a scream.

"Shit!" I shout, bolting for the stairs. Crashing through her door with little regard for anything, I'm greeted by the sight of Hermione in powder blue fleece pyjamas, with her hair in two plaits, with a man bound in rope writhing at her feet. Her head is cocked into one side and she's a little pale but otherwise looks fine.

"Well for pity's sake, Anton, don't just stand there, remove this man from my bedroom floor. I have bound him very tightly, and I don't want him bleeding on the carpet. It's an antique, my grandmother left it to me in her will."

"I'll get him to the Ministry, we'll need an ID -"

"Aurors are on the way, and I already know who it is."

"You work fast for somebody just released from hospital."

"I'd work quicker if I hadn't. His name's Bulstrode. Older brother of Millicent Bulstrode, and unlike her actually had a brain. He shone particularly at Concealment Charms. Now for goodness sake remove him from my carpet!" George drags him up and out, and Hermione sits down on her bed with a bit of a bump. The rock that came through her window hit her pretty dressing table. I love her dressing table. It's clearly old, dark mahogany wood with pretty roses carves into it, and a mirror that folds into the top. Now there's an ugly gash in it. "That dressing table has been passed down from my great-grandmother. Now, it's ruined."

"It isn't ruined."

"It's fixable, that's true. But I'll always know it's there."

"It will be alright Hermione. I'll stay with you tonight."

"The Aurors will want to speak to me -"

"They can damn well wait until the morning. You don't move from this bed until at least eleven now. Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

"You mean, do I need a tablet."

"Sometimes, there are exceptions to the rule."

"No, I will be fine. Just - stay. Hold my hand."

"I will. I will." I put her down again, tuck her in, and hold onto her hands. Faint lines of stress are appearing between her eyes, and at the corners. "Hey, try and calm down. Shall I ask Anton for a cup of tea for you?"

"No."

"Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, quite."

"You feel cold. Oh here, I'll turn your blanket back on. Put your arms under the blanket. I'll stay, I promise. But I want you to cuddle down, and get comfortable and be warm."

"Alright." She seems sleepy almost at once, and I don't go back to bed that night. I stay awake, listening to Aurors come and go, and Anton and George moving around downstairs. They've ramped up the spells to the point where you literally cannot enter the garden without being physically repelled. We're going to have to tell Harry in the morning, but I ask Anton and George to let me do it, and therefore I can control that he isn't told until she's out of bed. She sleeps surprisingly peacefully, all things considered, and only one minor struggle at around six.

She rouses up at nine, and I give her breakfast. She goes straight back to sleep afterwards, totally unprompted. I'm worried about her - she's white as a sheet, and still feels cold, despite the electric blanket and the hot water bottle I tucked in beside her. I'm concerned about shock. Finally, I call the doctor and then Harry. They arrive at more or less the same time, and Harry bites his nails while the doctor examines her.

"She's fine. It's nervous reaction and mild shock. I gave her a sedative, she'll sleep now for a good eight hours. And yes, she will still sleep tonight. Keep an eye on her, feed her if she wants it. Just keep her fluids up. She will be alright, she just needs bed rest. How long do you think she'll stay away from work?"

"She says she's going back on Monday."

"Well, it's Saturday today. I don't see any reason why she can't, although I'd rather she left it until Wednesday."

"I doubt she'll allow that."

"Very well. Well, unless she's so tired she can't get up, she can go back on Monday."

"She'll be pleased to hear that. Thank you. Does somebody need to sit with her?"

"No, but check in every half an hour or so. Don't wake her up if she's sleeping, just make sure she's OK."

"Thank you, Doctor."

He departs, and Harry exhales.

"I'm going to the Ministry, see what's going on with the guy. Kingsley will tell me, then I'll come back here and tell you and Hermione. They'll want to speak to her, but I'll put them off until tomorrow."

"Will you have dinner here tonight? Anton is a very good cook."

"OK. I'll phone Ginny, and I'll pick her up on the way back from the Ministry."

"Alright. Tell Anton the plan, and say I'll help him cook something."

"You can cook?"

"The world is full of horrible shocks, Potter, that is one of them."

"Alright. See you later."

So we aren't friends. But we don't want to spontaneously start yelling at each other and flinging hexes. It may be a start.


	21. Chapter 21

HPOV

I'm unbelievably tired. I haven't felt this tired since the day after the Final Battle.

_When all the adrenaline had worn off, and all the celebrations were over, Harry Ron and I had gone up to Gryffindor Tower, telling only Ginny where we were, and had gone into the boys old dormitory. One simple spell, and we've merged their old bed together. Right then, we needed each other close by. We'd slept for sixteen straight hours. It was only seven in the evening when we'd crashed out, not even changing out of the clothes we'd worn for the celebrations. We hadn't even stirred until eleven the next morning. The boys were already awake when I woke up, and we'd lain there silently for a long time. I realised how uncomfortable I was in my pretty dress, the zip digging into my back. I'd wriggled around for a while, and then slid out of bed._

"_What are you doing? Don't get up yet," Harry protested._

"_I'm taking this bloody dress off, it's uncomfortable." We hadn't bothered about nudity while we were away, there wasn't the space or the time. I stepped out of it and kicked it to one side, standing in just my bra and knickers. I opened the closest trunk, and pulled out somebody's t-shirt, slipping my bra off and pulling the shirt over my head. "So, so much better."_

"_Agreed."_

"_Pervert."_

"_Just get back into bed, Hermione. Lets have some us time." I snuggle back in, wriggling between them. The comfortable silence resumed, and I tucked my hands behind my head. Two seconds later, two heads are resting on my tummy, one on each side. I didn't think we made the bed big enough, but apparently there's room for them both to lie full length like that. I play idly with Harry's hair, because he's closest. _

"_I can't believe it's over."_

"_I know. It doesn't seem real. Maybe we're dreaming." I grin, and pinch Ron's shoulder. "Ouch, Hermione."_

"_You're not dreaming."_

"_It's really over. He's really dead. So. What are we meant to be doing now?"_

"_Go on holiday. A really long holiday, just us three. And on this holiday, we'll do nothing. We'll go somewhere far away, and really private."_

"_Like where?"_

"_My uncle had this place in the Austrian Alps. When he died, it passed onto my parents. They'll let us use it. I've been there before. It's on a shelf above the Teirnsee, in the Tyrolean part of Austria. There's no Wizarding population for miles."_

"_Done. Lets go at the weekend."_

_We'd stayed there for three weeks. Only the Weasleys knew where we were, and as they had a restraining order against the press, nobody ever found us. It was three blissful weeks, three weeks when we worked out how we all felt about each other. At the end, Ron and I were together, and the moment we went back to the Weasleys place, Harry proposed to Ginny. They disappeared together. And then it was the start of all my nightmares. _

I wake up to Harry bending over me. I yell in shock and fall out of bed,

"Shit, Hermione, are you OK?"

"Bloody hell, Harry, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Well, you seem OK."

"I'm fine. I may as well get up now. Pass my dressing gown."

"I think you should stay -"

"Move, Potter." I go downstairs to find Draco grilling sausages.

"I heard Potter wake you up and figured you'd want something to eat. I'm making you sausage sandwiches. Tea is in the pot on the table, and it's fresh and hot."

"See, Harry, Draco gets it."

"Draco's frightened of you, he needs to stay on your good side."

"The happier she is, Potter, the easier she is to live with. This a fact."

I smile at them both, and go through to the living room. Its nice to see them - well, I'm not quite sure how to describe it. Tolerating each other. No, they're slightly more than that, but they aren't friends. Whatever's part way between tolerance and friendship. I pour myself a cup of tea, and switch the television on. I flick idly, but then give up and put Tom and Jerry cartoons on. It transpires that there are four hours of Looney Tunes coming up. This is perfectly acceptable as far as I'm concerned, and it also means I'm set for the day. Draco brings me my sandwich and chucks a ketchup bottle at me.

"I know you like to put it on yourself. I never manage to get it right." I open the bottle and dump ketchup onto the sandwich, before popping the top back on, and looking up at Harry, who's helped himself as per usual.

"Harry, go put ketchup on the shopping list."

"What for?"

"Because I want to start doing voodoo, and use it as the blood in the doll. Because we've run out, you prat." He smiles and goes off to the kitchen.

"I ate the last of your French Fancies too, so I put those on the list," he announces on his return.

"Cheeky fucker."

"It's why you love me." I smile at him, reaching over to the armchair and ruffling his hair. Draco laughs from behind the newspaper.

"Harry, what are you and Ginny wanting for Christmas? I mean, I'm doing some stuff for the baby, but what do you two want?"

"Oh blimey, I hadn't even thought about it. I know what Ginny wants from you though."

"Let me get the list. OK, go."

"She wants those plum suede boots you both saw while you were out shopping."

"Oh I know the ones. Think about what you want, please, and let me know. Draco, what about you?"

"I don't know either. What about you?"

"Well, I already told Harry what I'm wanting from him and Ginny. I'll show you what you can get me though. Harry can help you obtain it." I get up and go over to the sideboard, and rummage through the catalogue drawer.

"We should get Kevin to come here and file our drawers."

"I will be in my cold, cold grave before that happens. Here it is." I take the catalogue over to Draco, and point out the dress I've been ogling for months. "That one. That's the one I want."

"Yes, most pretty."

"You hate it."

"I'm not going to be the one wearing it."

"Well, no, but the thing is - well, bear with me on this."

"Oh God."

"Every new year, the Ministry holds a New Year Ball. They don't do one at Christmas because that's the Minister's annual paid holiday, so they hold a New Year Ball as a thing. We all get six days off - three incorporating Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and then three on New Years Eve, New Years day and then January 2nd. Now, the point of this conversation is that I want you to come to the Ball as my official plus one."

"Oh God, please no. Take Harry."

"Harry takes Ginny."

"How do you get an invite?" Draco asks Harry, curiously.

"Are you kidding? The Ministry always invites me, they bloody love me. I don't always go, but Hermione and Ginny tag-teamed me this year, as it's Mia's first year working for them."

"People call you Mia?"

"No, Harry calls me Mia. He is the only person who is ever permitted to call me Mia, so don't get any ideas."

"Going to have to ask you why you call her Mia."

"We used to have sex, and that's what I used to call her then." There's a moment of silence in the living room. In fact, apart from the TV playing the Looney Tunes theme, I can actually hear Anton sneeze outside.

"And the prize for the single most awkward comment on the planet ever uttered goes to Harry James Potter," I say, trying to make the situation less horrendous.

"You guys? You used to fuck?"

"Oh sweet Jesus."

"Yes, yes we did. Hermione, quit blushing, he would have found out eventually."

"Yes, but not in such a horrific way. You have quite literally no tact."

"Shall we just mutually agree to never, ever mention this conversation ever again?" Draco asks, smiling at me.

"Yes, lets do that. In the mean time, Harry, you can buy me a nice bottle of wine, by way of apology."

"Fair play."

I show Harry out at the end of the day, and turn back to Draco, who has had the same ironic smile on his face that he's been wearing since the horrible moment.

"Not a word, Malfoy. Not one single word."


	22. Chapter 22

DPOV

On Monday morning, she looks chipper and healthy, her blue blouse softening up what could have been a very severe trouser suit. It suits her eyes actually. She looks like she's got some more flesh on her bones, which is a very good thing, as being skinny doesn't suit her.

She meets me in the Atrium after we've both slid in via Floo from her fireplace, and smiles at me. We go down to her office together, but we're stopped at least ten times on the way, all by concerned people who want to know how she is and if she's feeling better, and if she knows any more about what is going to happen to the guy who broke into her house. Of course she doesn't, but they're sending some Aurors to her office to interview her today. This makes her jumpy and nervous, so Anton and I made her favourite lunch today. She doesn't know yet, I'm going to produce it as a surprise. I know Aurors - they always come in the morning. I even got Harry to buy a Kinder surprise egg as a special treat as she does love them lots, so I thought she'd enjoy it on a day like today. I get Anna to look after her lunch box, telling her to let me know as soon as the Aurors have been.

"Shall I give it to her if you aren't going to be back from wherever for a long time, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes please, Anna. And call me Draco."

"I'll make sure I let her know it's from you."

"Thanks."

"Draco?" Hermione asks, poking her head out of her office. "Will you please go and find Kevin, and bring him here? His exceptionally ridiculous 'filing system' means I can't find a blasted thing."

"I can explain the system, Hermione," Anna says, getting up.

"I know, I just want to throw quills at him." She goes back into her office, closing it with a quiet click.

"Shall I actually do that?"

"I would go and warn him to stay out of her way for a while."

"Got it. Do you need anything done?"

"Actually, yes I do. Would you mind terribly running this down to the out-going post?"

"Nope, it's fine. Anything else?"

"Not right now. But as it's her first day back -"

"I won't get two minutes to myself all day? It's fine, I figure that's what I'm here for."

"See you soon."

It's a nice trip down, actually. People have stopped staring quite as much, although they still glare and whisper occasionally. I pick up a lot of the local buzz doing these errands, and I'm listening carefully. I catch Hermione's name mentioned, and for whatever reason, alarm bells start ringing. I recognise the voice. I crouch behind the statue, and pretend to be working out a knot in my shoelace.

"You failed me."

"The boy got there too soon. We didn't plan for him."

"Are you blaming me?"

"It's a much your fault as mine."

"Remember how thin the ice you're skating on is."

"I go, you will be coming with me."

"We cannot make the mistake again. If they have Bulstrode -"

"They won't torture him, if that's what you're worried about. Granger would never allow it."

"But they may offer him a deal."

"Then we must act within the week. She will be dead by Friday - and on this, I give you my word."

My blood runs absolutely cold. I force myself to walk away calmly and slowly. I draw no attention to myself, but as soon as I'm out of sight, I'm running for Hermione's office. But then I panic. I can't tell Hermione. I know who I need to go to.

"Jean, I need to see Mr Zabini."

"He's asked for no interruptions -"

"I don't care, it's important. Tell him it's life and death, and tell him he needs to see me now."

"I'll try." Jean, bless her, doesn't think I'm the scum of the earth still. She doesn't really like most people, so I try not to take anything personally. She crosses to Blaise's office door, and knocks. She goes in, but leaves the door open. "Mr Zabini, sir, Mr Malfoy is here to see you. I told him you'd asked for no interruptions, but he says it's urgent."

"Alright. Show him in."

"Mr Malfoy, you can go in."

I shut the door.

"Ward it, sound-proof it, and lock it."

"Pardon?"

"Do it." He does so, then turns to me looking vaguely amused.

"So, what's got you so worked up?"

"I heard something in the Atrium."

"You've gone in the head you have."

"They are going to try and kill Hermione. They said that by Friday, she would be dead."

"_What_? Who?"

"I didn't recognise one of the voices, but it's pretty obvious he's got somebody on the inside."

"Draco, I swear to God, you tell me now, or I will beat it out of you."

"It's Runcorn."

"He's in Azkaban. You have got to be mistaken."

"He was my father's best friend, I grew up with him in the house more or less every single weekend. _I know that voice_. It was him, and he wants her dead."

"Would you be prepared to prove this?"

"Yes."

"Then we need to go to the Minister. No, wait. If he was here, somebody would have recognised him."

"Not if he was under Polyjuice. How many hundreds of people work here? Nobody would look twice at someone they didn't recognise."

"Did you get an actual look at him."

"No, he was behind the fountain. He won't have stuck around either."

"OK, look. I believe you, but Kingsley won't unless we can explain why he's not in Azkaban and nobody's noticed."

"He's got enough connections. All he'd need to do would be to call in a favour, and he'd be able to get somebody to drink Polyjuice and stay inside for him. Perhaps he had somebody in Azkaban, somebody due to be released. All they'd need to do would be to switch places on the day, take the Potion, he'd walk out as the one due to be released. Then all he'd need to do was find an unsuspecting Muggle, get some hair, and disguise himself again."

"Lets go."

Once we've explained everything to Kingsley, he looks us both over.

"You are prepared to prove all this, naturally."

"Absolutely. Whatever it takes."

"Very well." He gets up, and puts his head out of the door and addressees his assistant. "Michael, we're going into lockdown. Perform the spells." The assistant types rapidly onto his computer, and an automated alarm begins to sound. It's definitely got faster since they installed the computers.

_The Ministry of Magic is now in security lockdown. All personnel are to return to their departments. The Ministry of Magic is now in security lockdown. All personnel are to return to their departments. All department Heads are to ensure that every member of their Department is present. The Ministry of Magic is now in security lockdown._

HPOV

Anna comes into my office as soon as the alarm begins to sound.

"Hermione, what on earth is going on?" I'm already shaking my head at her.

"I don't know, Anna. Come on, lets do the rounds. Bring the register." I pull my jacket on, put the robes on over it. We go around, and check we've got everyone.

"Miss Granger, what's happening? Why are we in lockdown?"

"That information is classified. Please remain at your desks. Nobody is to go anywhere, is that clearly understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And if you see anything suspicious, I am to be alerted at once."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Kevin, you're in charge now."

"Ma'am." Anna and I return to the office, where I find Kingsley waiting for us.

"Minister, care to explain? I was under the impression that Departmental Heads were informed about security lockdowns."

"Hermione, you need to sit down."

"Alright."

"There is a Death Eater on the premises. He's after you, and he wants to kill you."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, we need to get you out of here now. Anton has been alerted to the situation, he has a team on it."

"He hasn't left my side all day, how's he even managed to do that?"

"He's a telepath."

"I see. Anything else I should know about him?"

"Hermione, for God's sake, will you pay attention and take this seriously."

"Why would somebody target me? Out of everybody here, why come after me?"

"You brought down Voldemort."

"Correction: Harry brought down Voldemort."

"You helped. Look, we don't know why, but you need to off the premises."

"I'm not going. Look, you've put us into lockdown. If he's still here, he'll know he has to try now. He can't get out, so he can't risk being found and caught before he has a chance."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Live bait."

"Over my dead body," Draco says, firmly, stepping into the office.

"Shut up, Draco. And where have you been anyway?"

"Proving I haven't cracked up."

"He recognised Runcorn's voice."

"Runcorn? Kingsley, are you on meth?"

"Look, we don't know!" he nearly shouts.

"And you aren't being live bait," Blaise adds, also joining us. "All accounted for, Minister, except for Andrew Lucia in Magical Maintenance. I sent guys to his house just to double check, he's still laid up with a broken leg. His wife and oldest daughter both testified under Veritaserum, he hasn't moved off the sofa all day."

"Alright. And he isn't under any spells or potions?"

"No."

"Look, Kingsley, what else do you suggest? If it's really Runcorn, he was exceptionally good at cloaking spells. You aren't going to find him. We can't stay in lockdown forever, so we need to lure him out. I'm going down to the Atrium. Anton, you come with me."

"He won't come out if I'm there."

"You won't be," I say, smiling. "Harry lent me this yesterday. He said that if there really was somebody out to kill me, I'd need it."

"Is that -"

"Harry's invisibility cloak? Yes."

"I thought it was a myth."

"And that's how it will remain, do you all understand? You never saw it. In fact, I will be Obliviating you all later."

"Understood."

"Anton, put this on. It's totally undetectable, resistant to Summoning Spells, and completely impenetrable."

"I didn't know the last one was a property of the Cloak."

"I adapted it while we were away hunting Horcruxes."

"You're a genius."

"Thank you. Put it on, Anton. Now, does it cover all of you? Good. Nobody is to follow. Anna, take this. It's a speaker. It's tapped into my brain - you'll be able to hear my thoughts, so you'll know what's happening. And I don't care what you hear - nobody is to come after me. _Am I clearly understood_?"

"Very clearly."

"Good."

I step into the Atrium, and I feel Anton join me. Apparently those telepathy skills are pretty damn good. But there's something else here. I can hear echoing footsteps, and they're walking towards me down the tunnel that has all the fireplaces lining it. It's creepy - I've never seen the Ministry like this, so silent and deserted.

"Come on, Runcorn. Are we really going to play this game?" Apparently we are, as there's no reply from the footsteps, which continue to approach. He's taking his time. "Oh really, stop with the dramatics, please. I'm very busy."

"You are hardly in a position to be making demands, Miss Granger. My wand is pointing directly at your heart."

"_Homenum Revelio_." He appears immediately, and there is a deadly smile on his face. "Apologies for ruining your little scene. I just got tired."

"Please don't try and pretend you aren't afraid of me, Miss Granger."

"I'm not. You've tried and failed to kill me once, why attempt to again? You'll just embarrass yourself."

"There's nobody here to save you now, Hermione. No Harry Potter, no friends. Friends who let you walk out here alone to face me."

"_Stupefy," _I hear Anton whisper. But to my astonishment, it isn't Runcorn he aims for. I see them both bend over me, right before I finally lose consciousness.


	23. Chapter 23

DPOV

Potter is furious. Furious, and seriously worried, I can see it in his eyes.

"You let a Death Eater slip through your hands, and then you let Hermione wander out unprotected. Kingsley, I swear to God, I know enough people to have your head served up to me on a silver fucking platter, and enough people to ensure you'll never work again. You start talking, Shacklebolt, and you explain to me how the fuck this was allowed to happen."

"Potter, who keeps letting you in here?"

"People."

"Well, those people are going to stop. You don't make my job any easier, charging in here every single time something doesn't quite go to plan. Sit down and calm down, or I will have you thrown out."

"Oh, God, both of you shut up," Blaise snaps. "This isn't going to help us find Hermione. Potter, it's not like we wanted her to wander out there, but she made the choice to trust Anton with her life. That in of itself says he was bloody convincing, because you know how good Hermione is with stuff like that."

"Now, we need to start planning. Seamus, are your Aurors ready?"

"Ready and waiting. But we'll need to speak to people who knew Runcorn. Draco, we need to have a serious conversation."

"How do we know he's not working for them?" Potter snaps, glaring at me. "Wouldn't be the first time he was a traitorous little scumbag."

"Excuse me, Potter, but I was found innocent in a court of law, and as I recall, Hermione testified on my behalf. I can categorically state, here and now, that I am not working with or for Runcorn. And I will testify to that under whatever spells or potions you care to try on me."

"OK, boys, let not have this cocks on the table thing," Blaise says, elbowing between us impatiently. "Potter, if you're going to start throwing around the 'Death Eater's are everywhere' thing, you're going to have to accuse me too, and I would like to remind you that Draco's name was cleared in a court of law, as was mine. Our priority now is Hermione, not you two scoring petty points of each other."

"Mr Shacklebolt," Luna suddenly says, entering the office. "There's a hoard of ravenous press monsters outside wanting a statement on the abduction of Miss Hermione Granger."

"Who the fuck keeps giving the press this information?"

"Shall I issue a statement?"

"Please, Luna. Say no comment."

"That's a yes."

"But it isn't a public admittance. I'm worried that if it's publicly announced, they may hurt her," Kingsley says, rubbing his forehead.

"Right, then we need to start working."

"Where should we start?" Potter asks, dropping into a chair.

"Draco, where did Runcorn and your father see each other?" Blaise asks me, apparently taking over the meeting.

"A variety of places. Malfoy Manor, Runcorn's place, but they're both in Ministry hands now."

"Runcorn's old house has been resold. Malfoy Manor will remain our property until you complete your probation, whereupon it will pass back to you," Kingsley says.

"I hope you've removed everything you want to."

"Absolutely everything. A fair bit of it is now in Blaise's department. It is possible he could have gone there."

"I'll despatch Aurors there today, but I doubt he would have gone there," Seamus says.

"They also liked to frequent the Stag and Apple - it's a pub in the Wizarding village Phoenix Creek. It's been closed down now, I think."

"Last year. Anybody know what's there now?" Blaise asks. "No? Well then, Seamus, add it to your list."

"And the only other place I can think of is Hogsmeade."

"Would they really have gone there?"

"I doubt it, but we'll check it. That's all you can think of?"

"My father didn't discuss everything with me. Those are the only ones I knew about, and I learnt that listening at doors." I take a deep breath, knowing none of them will like what I am about to suggest. "We need to consider that he could have gone to either Hermione's house - or to yours Harry."

"What?"

"Anton knew where both were. He may think we won't try there."

"Ginny. Ginny's there, for fucks sake, Ginny is home alone."

"I'll get people there now." Seamus and Kingsley leave the office, followed by Blaise. I stay with Potter, genuinely frightened by the look on his face.

"I shouldn't have left her, I should have brought her with me."

"It's not your fault, Harry. He probably hasn't gone there, I just had to - remind people that Anton was with them, and he knows places."

"I know. I should have thought of that myself. My marriage vows, when I married her, I swore to protect her. And I can't even do that. What sort of husband does that make me?" I'm a bit startled by this, as Potter and I do not have emotional conversations together.

"You're not a bad husband, Potter," I say, uncomfortably.

"And how would you know?"

"You've forgotten my father. He was a bad husband, Potter, you are not."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

"Quite."

"Do I say I'm sorry? Ginny told me that your father had died."

"No. My father got everything due to him."

"I suppose he did."

"You could have just said that."

"I'm an arse, Malfoy, and I'm the first to admit that, but I can't just stroll around saying that other people's father's are absolute tossers."

"Thanks for the courtesy, Potter. I wasn't aware we showed it to each other."

"Hermione would cheerfully strangle us both, and I think she's getting closer every day. She doesn't expect us to be pals, she's not stupid, but she'd like us to tolerate each other."

"I don't mind tolerating you, Potter, but can you please quit pulling the Death Eater card every time something goes wrong? And can you please not accuse me of being responsible for your brother in law's death?"

"Agreed."

"There."

"So."

"Huh." Fortunately for us both, Seamus interrupts.

"Harry, I sent guys to check your house. Nobody there apart from Ginny, and I've got people watching it, along with the locations Draco gave us. No sign of them yet, but we are going to find her."

"I think we need to confirm her abduction. The entire community would be looking out for her then, somebody would eventually see something."

"Um, actually they wouldn't."

"Why?" I fidget.

"We all forgot. Anton has your Invisibility Cloak."

"What."

"Hermione gave it to him, before they went to fight Runcorn."

"No, I mean, what, he can't have," Harry says impatiently. "I have it here." And he produces from a pocket an exact replica of what Hermione was holding in her office.

"But that's what Hermione had."

"Impossible, there's only one Invisibility Cloak."

"Can it be replicated?"

"No."

"Hermione said she put some charms on it, to make it impenetrable."

"That can't be done either. She tried when we were looking for the Horcruxes, she tried every night for months, but it didn't work. Whatever she gave to Anton, it wasn't my Cloak. So, she didn't quite trust him. She gave him something that looked like my Cloak, made him invisible - but that wasn't my Cloak. So what did she give him?"

"A regular cloak, with some Charms on it."

"But what Charms? Hermione is clever. We agree?" Seamus and I nod. "Scratch that, she's a genius. She trusts Anton - but for whatever reason, she suspects him, or is suspicious, or is simply being cautious, whatever. She gives him something she says is my Cloak, but isn't, it's just something she's fiddled about with. So, if you were Hermione, and you didn't quite trust someone, but you had to take them somewhere with you, and you gave them a cloak - what would you do to that Cloak first?"

"Put a Tracking Spell on it."

"Exactly, Malfoy, points for you."

"But if we don't know what the spell is, what will you do?"

"I know Hermione very well, she is a creature of dedicated habit. And she has a favourite Undetectable Tracking Spell. And the best thing about it, is once she's activated it, all I need to do is cast a spell of my own, and it'll tell me exactly where she is."

"And if she hasn't cast her spell?"

"We keep casting ours until she does. Come on, lets go tell Kingsley."

Harry's been casting the same spell for three hours. Ginny's joined us by this time, refusing to stay home and twiddle her thumbs, as she put it. Nice enough, as now Harry at least knows she's here, and nobody can get to her. Finally, a loud beeping fills the room. We all gather round Kingsley's secretary's computer, which has a full scale map on it, with a blinking red dot on it.

"The dot's the cloak?"

"Yep. And it's stationary. I should think they're at their destination."

"Maybe they just dumped the Cloak?"

"Nobody would dump an Invisibility Cloak. No, they're there. Now, we just need to find out where this is." Kingsley's secretary says, typing away rapidly.

"It's just outside Edinburgh, little Wizarding village called Newt Pond. Underneath a pub called the Newt and Eye. But there's only one entrance, through the pub itself. We could take it."

"We can't just storm in there. We don't know how many of them there could be, they'd have the defensive upper hand. Certainly we'd have the element of surprise for it, but we need a battle plan."

"They could be hurting her."

"And if we charge in there, we're going to lose men, Potter. Have you called Weasley?"

"I called him before I left. He was in Romania visiting his brother, he should be here pretty soon," Ginny says. "He said he'd come straight up here." Which he does, pretty much right on cue. The door to Kingsley's office actually rebounds off the wall, he kicks it open with such force. He crosses straight to Harry and lifts him bodily from his chair by the front of his shirt.

"You said," Weasley says, breathing hard through his nose, "that she wouldn't ever be targeted again. You said that she was never going to be in any danger ever again. And now, now I hear that she's been kidnapped. What the fuck, Potter? I leave for a week and I get back to this?"

"Come on Ron, put Harry down," Ginny intervenes. "Anton fooled us all, and that includes Hermione. We have to work out a way to get her back."

"I will not stand here and know that they are going to do to her what Bellatrix Lestrange did to her. I am not going to let her be tortured again."

"We are hardly going to let that happen, but we cannot just storm in there."

"Why not? The all guns blazing approach worked for me and Harry last time."

"Yeah, it worked so well, you lost Dobby. No, this time we're going to do it properly," Ginny insists.

"What's this _we?" _Harry demands. "You aren't coming on this."

"Excuse me, Harry Potter, but I can do whatever the hell I want. She's my friend too, I have the right to come on this mission to save her."

"You're pregnant, Ginny. You are not coming with us, and this discussion is absolutely over."

"What are you going to do, Harry? Shove me back into the Room of Requirement, tell me wait around? I'm not a child any more, and I am coming."

"OK, can I make a suggestion?" I snap. Without waiting for an answer, I carry on. "All of you, shut the hell up. Thank you. Harry, Ginny, Ron, kindly have your little domestic later on, Ginny can come if she damn well wants to, we can't stop her. Secondly, if we're ever actually going to get to Hermione, we need to shut the hell up, and stop arguing, and actually start planning. Now, if there's only one entrance, maybe we'll have the element of surprise. But Runcorn isn't stupid, it'll be warded to the hilt. We'll have the element of surprise, therefore, for about one second. Hopefully we'll have the numerical advantage, but as has been said, we can't know that for certain. I don't think going today is a viable option."

"What?" Harry and Ron both shout.

"He's right," Kingsley says. "We need to scout the place out. Seamus, recall all your Aurors - and I mean all of them. Leave is cancelled, assignments are temporarily suspended, get everyone back here, right now. And somebody owl Severus Snape."

"I am already here," says a familiar silken voice, as the familiar black-cloaked figure of Snape strides in through the door nobody bothered to close. "Thank you for informing me, Potter."

"Who did tell you?" I ask, curiously.

"I did, while you were all arguing," Blaise says, speaking for the first time. "And now, everyone, we must start planning."


	24. Chapter 24

HPOV

I come round with a sore head, a seriously bruised jaw, and with my short-fuse temper long since burnt down. I can barely open my left eye, but I can see two men in the room with me. As I regain some sense, I realise they've tied me to a chair.

"Oh, really. How cliché."

"Ah, Miss Granger. How are you feeling?" Anton asks in a voice with I know, but don't recognise.

"I'm good thanks, Anton, and you? Bang up job on the bodyguard thing by the way, definitely going to need to give you an excellent reference. Going to turn some lights on, or are you so afraid of me you can't look me in the eye?" The lights go up, and I look around. Anton is bending over me, Runcorn lounging at a desk in the background.

"We've been here now for nearly six hours. No sign of all your little friends, Miss Granger."

"We're not little now, Runcorn. Much like we weren't little the day we knocked you out and spent a happy hour impersonating you."

"I vowed then you would regret it."

"Good grief, give me credit, Runcorn. I am far from stupid. You don't seriously expect me to believe that all this is balm for your wounded male ego."

"It's making this all the sweeter. I always would have gone for you. You'll hurt."

"Hurt? Who will I hurt?"

"Your death, Miss Granger. Your death will hurt he Wizarding World far more than either of your friends. Certainly people would grieve for Mr Potter, but then he's expected to fall in the line of duty one day. And Mr Weasley - well, lets just say he wouldn't leave much of a mark. But you. You're the unsung hero, the mastermind - and the broken woman. When I kill you, they will mourn your death for years. They will write stories about you, and you will be remembered. And that's what I want, Hermione. I want to be the one who murdered the golden girl, I want to hurt Harry Potter, I want him to suffer."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe. But I'm going to enjoy killing you, Miss Granger." I try and hide the fear I can feel clutching at my heart.

"Anton, where do you fit into this picture?"

"I don't have much against you, not personally. But the Order of the Phoenix killed my father."

"If he was a Death Eater, he deserved everything he got," I spit. His eyes darken, and his fist connects with my jaw. My head flies back, and when I right myself, I can feel the vicious ache. "That was just uncalled for."

"I thought about this long and hard, Miss Granger. About how I'd kill you. I knew I wanted it to be painful, you see. When they found your broken, bleeding body, I wanted them to know that I'd made you pay very dearly for everything you did."

"I shall make no apology for anything I did, and I can assure you I have paid tenfold already. I'll carry my scars forever, Runcorn. What did you carry away from the War? You weren't at the Final Battle, you didn't see what I saw. You got scared, they found you hiding in the forests. You didn't fight. You can make me pay you nothing. I am not afraid of you."

"Such brave words, Miss Granger. You'll take them back."

I don't know how much time has passed. I know its been red, painful time, time that's only intersected by the breaks between the beatings. A hand yanks me back by my hair and I can't suppress the gasp of pain that hisses out.

"How are you, Miss Granger?" The voice - I don't know the difference between Anton and Runcorn any longer - is lightly mocking.

"Bastard. Bastard coward, it's all you're ever going to be." I mutter. I feel blood bubble out of my mouth. I wonder if I still have all my teeth.

"I love it when you fight. This wouldn't be any fun otherwise."

"They're going to come for you, Runcorn. Just wait." There's a laugh, but he goes away. I'm still fighting, but I don't know how much longer I can fight them for. I'm starting to lose hope. It's been so long. What if they don't come for me? No. Blaise will - wait. What the hell does Blaise have to do with this? Why think of him? I'm delirious. I'm not thinking right. _Harry _will come, that's it, Harry will come for me. He saves me a lot, but I've saved him a fair few times. I guess we just save each other.

"Lets think about how we'll do this. We could do both hands at the same time, or I could just work my way around."

The pain as he rips out the nail on my thumb is enough to make we scream weakly. And I finally understand, as darkness finally begins making it's welcome return, I finally understand that I'm going to bloody well die in this hole.

BPOV

We're finally in position around the Newt and Eye. Finally, after fifteen solid hours of planning and scouting. We aren't going to try to break the wards, we're just going in. element of surprise. They'd expect us to try the wards, giving them the time to hex us all into next year. No alarm goes off when Potter blasts down the doors. The man knows how to make an entrance, if nothing else. We crash down into the basement, and Potter narrowly dodges a hex. Ginny's clear, high voice is like the cry of a hawk and she shouts her spell, blasting Anton backwards, knocking him out. Runcorn is desperate, throwing curses everywhere. But Draco, who has used the cover of all the hexes and curses flying about to drop down through a tiny cellar window that we didn't even think it was possible to squeeze through, and has tackled Runcorn around the waist. Even though he's taken off guard, Runcorn still manages to blast him with a Burn Curse, and he falls back, clutching at his shoulder and neck. We seize the moment and he's bound and gagged before he can react again. I turn as everyone is evaluating injuries. Ginny is kneeling beside Draco, performing spells rapidly, and Harry is kneeling by Ron, who seems to have been hit with a flying curse, and is having some kind of fit. I spot the dark shape slumped in a chair, and cast an Illumination Spell.

"Oh Jesus, Hermione." I rush over to her, and rip her ropes apart. She's bleeding, there's so much fucking blood. She's semi-conscious, but gasps with pain when I touch her hands. I look down, and find myself retching. "Oh, God. Hermione, it's me, look at me," I nearly shout. This apparently attracts Harry's attention, and he tries to shove me aside, but I don't move. She's muttering something.

"Blaise, Blaise, Blaise."

"It's me. I'm here. I'm going to get you to a hospital. You're going to be OK."

"Blaise," she mumbles again. "Blaise." I'm horrified to see blood bubble out of her mouth. I literally lift her out of that chair, and cradle her like I once cradled my baby cousin. She feels more fragile than that baby did. I carry her outside, and she seems to revive a little as the cooler night air hits her face. "Hurts. I hurt."

"Where?" I ask her, getting ready to Apparate to St Mungo's.

"Everywhere."

"OK. It's OK now. I'm going to take care of you."

And I do, at least until she's taken from my arms at St Mungo's by doctors who've been placed on standby by Kingsley prior to our departure. Ron and Harry pop into existence moments later, followed by Draco who's being supported by Kingsley. Ron and Draco are both taken by medics, right before Ginny runs in with Seamus and Snape. They must have flown here. We aren't allowed to follow them, and a medic looks exceptionally grim as he calls us into a private room.

"Messrs Malfoy and Weasley will make full recoveries. In fact, they already have. We'll keep them overnight, just to be sure there are no lasting effects from the curses, but they'll be able to return home tomorrow. If you wish to see them, you may. But Miss Granger's situation is entirely different. She is seriously hurt, and it wasn't done by any curse. Her jaw is fractured in three places. She lost a tooth, which cut up the inside of her mouth very badly. All her fingernails have been forcibly removed." I can tell he's forcing his voice to remain calm and clinical. "She's got five broken ribs, a fractured pelvis, a broken shin, and someone has broken both her wrists. I'm afraid she will be here for a few days."

"But you can Heal her?"

"Of course we can. But her physical injuries are not the biggest problem. She's been tortured. I can't say what kind of psychological damage may have occurred. If I make her an Outpatient appointment with our psychiatrist, will she attend it?"

"I'd see that she did."

"Good. Now, she's been asking for Ginny. You can see her, Mrs Potter, but only you and for only ten minutes."

"But she's my best friend," Harry protest wildly. The medic fixes him with a glare that reminds me very strongly of Severus Snape, who got to follow Hermione down the corridors.

"I don't care, Mr Potter, you are in my hospital, and therefore you follow my rules. You see her when I say you can see her, and not one second before. I don't care what you may have done, I don't care how famous you are. She's my patient. You can visit Mr Weasley or Mr Malfoy, but I find you anywhere near Miss Granger's room and I will ban you from this hospital. Now, Mrs Potter, you can follow me. Ask at reception for Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy."

Somewhat unsurprisingly, I'm the only one who goes to Draco. Snape is already in his room though, so he wasn't left alone. He's far paler than normal - the last time I saw him this pale, he'd just got out of Azkaban. The livid purple burn on his neck covers his entire left shoulder and creeps onto his jaw.

"How you feeling?"

"Surprisingly, not too bad. They did a good job, but um, they can't do anything about the scar. Magical burn. Nothing they can do."

"Battle scars. They say you did something good. I don't think I could have confronted Runcorn without a wand."

"Indeed, Mr Zabini." Snape gets up and fastens his billowing black cloak. "As I was telling Mr Malfoy, I've seen Miss Granger. Chiefly, she's fine - medically, anyway. And don't worry - Runcorn and Anton will be brought to justice." He billows out before either of us can answer.

"They won't let any of us see her, apart from Ginny. When I've seen her, I'll come back and let you know."

"It was bad, though. I saw it. Saw her, as you took her away. If you see her, or if you find out anything from Ginny, let me know. I know nobody else will come and tell me."

"They're all panicking about Ron. Seamus would probably come tell you, but Kingsley made him go back to the Ministry for the debriefing. And to lock up those two scumbags."

"What happened to Ron?"

"He got hit by a curse. I don't know what one, but he was having some kind of a fit. He's OK now."

"Good. They probably won't want to know, but tell them I'm glad he's OK."

"I'll let you get some sleep," I say, understanding him perfectly.

"Come back as soon as you find out about her. I don't care about the time."

"I will," I promise him.

I go off and find Ron's ward, and slide into the crowd of people around his bed. At some point, his parents have shown up, along with the whole clan. I appreciate that I'm hardly going to be welcome, but I nudge my way to the front of the group anyway.

"Weas - Ron, Draco said that he's glad you're going to be OK. He's fine too, if any of you are interested."

"And we'd be interested because?" Harry snaps.

"Because, Potter," I shout, losing my temper, "we wouldn't have been about to get anywhere near Runcorn until he tackled him and took that bloody curse. And if he hadn't, there'd be people dead. So you damn well grow up. He probably saved lives - no. He did save lives. Ron's life, all our bloody necks. He didn't even have a wand, Potter, but he went in there anyway, knowing that he had no way to defend himself, and do you know why, Potter? Because he cares about Hermione. So enough. The fucking War is long over. Six years, Potter. And after all these years, you still hold a damn grudge. That how you want your kid growing up? Hating other people because of the past? That's how it all started in the first place, people hating each other for taking sides. And people died because of it Potter, people like Fred Weasley and your parents. After all these years, Potter - it's enough. It's over, it's long over, and we have got to move on. Draco's ready to build that bridge, Harry. You keep burning them, and the boy who saved us all will end up being the boy who started it all again. If Draco and Hermione can do it, if she can forgive him and if he can be humbled enough to accept that forgiveness and be man enough to take his punishment and apologise, then you, you can be man enough forgive him too. And to take his forgiveness in turn, because you haven't been exactly pleasant to him. Now that's all I have to say. I'm going to go and find Ginny, and ask her how Hermione is, so I can go and tell Draco."

"Indeed, I will tell him that myself," Ginny says quietly. "And Harry can come with me." She bends over her brother briefly, to kiss his cheek and murmur something in his ear. I'm left to stand in a pocket of silence, and I'm suddenly very conscious of everyone staring at me. I've never been shy, and I've certainly never lacked in confidence, but suddenly, I can feel my face heating up.

"All very true," says an unexpected voice. George Weasley has clearly dropped a lot a weight, and looks very tired, but he stands and faces me. "Well said," he says, holding out his hand. I shake it, but he doesn't let go. "Fred wouldn't want us to still be hating each other. He died to stop us hating, he died fighting for us to be friends. I owe it to him, to myself, to everyone who did die in that Battle, and before it, to make that effort now. You're right," he says, looking right at me. "Six years is too long to hate each other. I'll go and see Draco myself, I think. Later, when Harry and he are done talking. I doubt they'll ever be best friends, but I hope that they will one day get along. And, um, I've made a choice."

"About what?" Ron asks, curiously.

"I'm going to take that Muggle Studies professorship at Hogwarts. The shop is basically running itself. I can keep that up - in Fred's memory, and because it is fun and what I always wanted - but I need the change. It might not be a forever thing - but I know I need it for the next few years, at least."

"We can owl Minerva now," I say.

"Thanks, Blaise, but I think I'll go and see her. I can tell her - well, about today. And accept the job. Goodbye, everyone. I'll be back tomorrow, no doubt, and I'll come and see you, Ron. As you'll see Mal - Draco before me, will you tell him that I'll come and see him as soon as I can? Probably when he's back with Hermione, but I'll let them know. It'll be a busy few weeks." He walks out too. I'm left with just Ron and Mr and Mrs Weasley, who exchange glances.

"Perhaps," Mr Weasley says, slowly, "you'd like to come for dinner one weekend. We generally see everyone once a month, they all come for dinner and so on. The next one is scheduled for a week Sunday. You'd be very welcome to join us."

"I'd be honoured," I say quietly. I shake Mr Weasley's hand, but Mrs Weasley yanks me into a hug. I have to bend my knees a fair bit to spare my back, but it's a warm, motherly hug.

"You're too skinny," she announces. "Far too skinny." They both depart, leaving me with Ron.

"You're one of the family now, I suppose," Ron says. "That's what she says to everyone she considers a friend. For what's it worth now, I'm glad Malfoy is OK. And I'll have to thank him. I know he saved our necks in there. And what's more, I'm going to personally petition the Minister to have his sentence shortened or lessened. At the minimum, they should at least give him back him wand."

"You know they won't do that. But I'll join you in that petition. You know he can't even go out unaccompanied? We can at least get the house arrest thing lifted."

"Thanks, Weasley."

"Can't be doing with this first name stuff, eh?" he says, grinning broadly.

"Feels too weird."

"Indeed, Zabini. By the way, I don't expect you're used to a proper Weasley dinner. Don't have any breakfast, and I'd have a small dinner the night before. I know in your upbringing it was probably all sixteen courses, but my mother serves up the equivalent amount of food - I know, I had a state dinner once after the War. Hellish stuff - for her main course. Brace yourself for an interesting Christmas sweater, too."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Oh, and do not arrive alone. That would be like strolling into the lion's den covered in basting sauce. Come with Hermione, she'll be too busy fussing over her to pay too much attention to you."

"I'll make a note of all this," I say, grinning. "Anyway, I need to get back to the Ministry. Kingsley will want me to be debriefed and so on. Heal up, Weasley."

"Cheers, Zabini."

I ask the girl on reception to inform the others, if they ask, that I've had to go back to the Ministry. I don't expect change to happen overnight, but for everyone's sake, we have got to at least try and get along when we see each other. All these years - it's been time enough for anger, and now there must be time for healing. We don't have to be best friends, and hey, we don't even have to talk if we don't really want to.

But just remembering Hermione saying my name in that basement like a mantra is enough to make me think that there might be more than friendship available to us. Maybe I should try getting to know her. Maybe there's something for us, no matter how tiny. Maybe there's nothing but friendship, but maybe there's more. Plenty of time to find all that out.


	25. Chapter 25

HPOV

Because sleep is red and angry, and full of pain and nightmares, I fight it. I fight to stay awake, fight to stay alert, so I can control my fears, point out to myself that, rationally and logically, I'm out of danger and no longer under threat. There's no reason to be scared now. There's always someone here, a visitor, now they're finally letting me have them. I'm never alone. Seamus himself is guarding my door while every single member of his department undergoes the most rigorous checks we can perform. We'll know how many hairs there are on each of their heads by the end of this, in addition to knowing exactly where they're loyalties lie. There are no loopholes any more. Harry relieves Seamus each day, and nobody else stands out there. Blaise is doing some sort of endlessly noble activity, and standing outside the entrance to the bloody corridor. Draco has been discharged, and he's dealing with the livid purple scar on his face, and Blaise seems to be helping with that too.

I know something's happened with them all - with Harry, Draco, Blaise, the Weasleys - but nobody is telling me what. Ginny only says that some things that needed to be said were said, and that Blaise was the one who said them. But whatever it was about, they can all at least be in the same room without a terrible atmosphere infecting everyone. I'll have to worm it out of Harry.

But of course, I can't stay awake forever. I have to sleep, and it's not quite as terrible as I thought it would have become. I've had worse nightmares. They're letting me out tomorrow, with a couple of follow-up appointments for this - and an Outpatients psychiatric schedule. I suppose it's something I've been needing to confront for quite some time. Blaise is there, looking a bit like Samuel L Jackson in Pulp Fiction. I wouldn't be surprised if he whips a gun out and dares somebody to say what again. Luna is there too.

"Hermione, if you say no, it's fine, but I've approved somebody from the _Prophet _to take a photo and a brief statement, just to confirm that you're being discharged. Harry or Blaise can do it if you'd rather not."

"I would rather not."

"I'll do it, Hermione, Harry can get you home."

"You're still coming on Sunday, so we can go to Molly's together?"

"Yes, I'll call you."

"OK."

Harry sneaks us out the back entrance, and gets me into the front seat of the car, bundling me well up in a blanket and even doing up my seatbelt. I can't even be bothered to protest - my newly grown nails are still tender to the touch, and I'm just tired. Draco is already at home, and he's waiting at the gate for us. Completely ignoring Harry, he undoes my belt and picks me up, blanket and all.

"You can bring her bag, Harry?"

"Sure. Don't drop her."

"Stronger than I look." I wait until we're out of Harry's earshot.

"Did you just call him _Harry_?" I whisper in his ear.

"Shut up."

"Oooo, touchy one, aren't we."

"I will drop you. I care not how ill you are, I will put you on these stairs and leave you."

"Bully."

"Hmm, yes, you want dinner?"

"Yes," I say, in a happy voice. "Hospital food is disgusting."

"Agreed. Molly sent some food over via Ginny yesterday, and she and Harry got the shopping done for us, so we're all set for a while. And then on Sunday, she'll be feeding you up." He puts me into bed very gently. "I seem to spend a lot of time putting you into bed after hospital stays."

"Hopefully this is the last time. Can you prop me up a bit?" He's very gentle, holding me with one arm that seems very strong and fluffing my pillows with the other.

"That alright?"

"Yeah. You should have been a nurse, you're very good."

"I think I screwed up any chance of being allowed to do that."

"In the Wizarding world, yes, but not the Muggle world. You could train to be a Muggle nurse."

"Maybe. You comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you. How long do I have to stay here?"

"Just for today, I promise. Kingsley says no work until the start of the next calendar month though, and he also said you don't get to argue with him, and that if you show up before then in any official capacity, he'll have you escorted off the premises."

"Alright, alright. What's that, a couple of weeks?"

"Two weeks and three days, you go back on Monday 3rd. Kevin is in charge. He promises not to mess with the filing. Shall I go and get the Monopoly out?" I smirk at him. He _loves _monopoly, after I taught him how to play a few weeks back. He's slowly getting better - but I am the all time queen of monopoly.

"You'll never beat me."

"Granger, logic dictates that one day I will kick your butt."

"You keep thinking that. Go on then. Ask Harry if he wants to play. He's another one who's convinced he can beat me."

I hear him clatter about downstairs, his voice and Harry's, then two sets of feet on the stairs. Harry pulls the table from under the window over, and he and Draco set the board up beside my bed so I can sit on the bed wrapped in my duvet and they can sit on chairs each side of me.

"I'm being the dog," I say.

"No. I'm convinced the reason you always win is because of that dog. I'll be the dog," Harry says.

"Fine, if you think it'll help. I'll be the iron."

"I will be the top hat," Draco says, arranging our pieces on the board. "Highest roll?" Harry wins, so he goes first, and we stick to usual rules - no buying on the first round, and free parking means one claims the money from fines and so on after the first round. It's a really nice game, actually, and there's no fighting between the boys and no horrible tension.

"For dodging speeding fine, go to Jail. Do not pass GO, do not collect £200. Oh, for goodness sake," Harry moans. "I would never dodge a speeding fine." He glances over the board. "You get a ten, Hermione, I will have to hurt you." I smile and roll the dice. I get twelve, miss free parking, and land on a Chance. The boys actually high five each other.

"Win Beauty Pageant, collect £100. Nice!"

"OK, she's cheating," Draco states to Harry. "Check her sleeves!"

"I'm recovering. Get away or I'll hurt you."

"OK, I need a nine for free parking," Draco says, rolling the dice. "Oh, yeah, that's the stuff!" He collects what's got to be at least a grand, and smirks at me. "Might be my day, Granger, are you ready to taste defeat?"

"You're not going to win, Malfoy."

"How does one leave Jail?" Harry asks plaintively.

"One misses a turn and then has to roll even," I say, teasing his formality.

"OK." I roll the dice again, and land on one of Draco's streets. "How much without anything on it?"

"£100."

"For you. Get a five and it's Mayfair central with a hotel."

"Oh good grief."

"Roll, honey, and then embrace defeat!"

"Oh goodness."

"Draco, don't you dare roll five, I'm not having her win this one as well." He rolls a seven, and promptly buys Baker Street.

"And I'll put a hotel on there."

"OK, give me evens!" Harry says. He gets it, and we carry on with our game.

I win, but only by a couple of hundred. Draco laughs at me and teases me about my defeat coming very soon.

"I'll go down in history as the only person to have ever defeated the Golden Girl."

"At a game of Monopoly, how wonderful your legacy would be for your children."

"You have to eat now, I'm going to make you dinner. Harry, why don't you whack her on the head and knock her out. We can feed her through a tube."

"You are a dazzling example of hilarity."

"Is he?" Harry quips. He and Draco clatter off downstairs.

Ginny comes by later, and she and I talk while Harry and Draco have a couple of beers downstairs, which turns into a fair few beers while they watch a football game and Draco asks regular questions about "the broomless Quidditch". Ginny takes one look at her husband and decides he's too drunk to drive home or to Apparate. She makes up a bed for him on my sofa and puts Draco to bed. I get myself up, ignoring her protests, and insist she shares my bed.

"You're pregnant, Ginny. You're not sleeping on my couch. You're going to get a good night in a good bed."

"Will it shut you up and get you back into bed if I agree?"

"It will."

"Then we have an arrangement." We snuggle down together and I'm reminded of nights in Gryffindor Tower when one or both of us was upset or scared by something, we'd bed down together and just hold hands to comfort each other. Tonight, she reaches out and takes my hand again.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"You can," I say, sleepily.

"Is there something going on with you and Blaise?" My eyes snap open.

"_What?"_

"Well, just I thought I'd ask, because maybe you wanted someone to."

"Shut up."

"OK." We smile in the dark.

"But is there?"

"No."

"Will there be?" I consider the answer to this question.

"I don't know." We don't talk again after that, and I turn my back to her so I can settle on my side. She slips an arm around my waist and that's how we settle for the night. It's nicely companionable, and it makes me feel anchored.

It's nice.


	26. Chapter 26

HarryPOV

I wake up at some point the next morning with a vile headache and a vague memory of watching football with _Malfoy_, of all people. How did that come about? I remember Monopoly with him and Mia. I do remember that it was - nice. It was nice, because we weren't fighting, and because we weren't fighting, she was the happiest I've seen her in a long time. But back to the hangover. Hermione's got painkillers in her bathroom. That is the goal. Get to painkillers, get to painkillers slowly and quietly. Don't want to wake anyone up. Ginny's probably made enough at it is.

Oh God, that's one hell of a crick in my neck. Hermione's sofa is comfortable beyond reason, but it is not to be slept on. I head for the stairs and fall over the magazine stand.

"Shit," I mumble, righting it hastily. I continue on towards the stairs.

GPOV

The three of us watch Harry try and sneak unsuccessfully towards Hermione's stairs. We chew our sandwiches slowly and stifle our laughter as we watch his progress.

"Shall we tell him?" I ask.

"Yes, for goodness sake, before he destroys something," Hermione responds, lifting her sandwich to her mouth.

"Harry," I call over to him. He whips round so fast he falls over and clutches at his head.

"Fuck," he moans.

"Yes, quite. You do realise it's almost one o'clock? Why are you sneaking around?"

"I wouldn't say he was sneaking," Draco comments. Harry glares at him.

"Didn't want to wake anyone."

"And checking the time didn't occur to you?"

"No. Painkillers?" he asks, hopefully, looking at Hermione, who nods and smiles. He stumbles towards us, and we give him some aspirin and sandwiches.

"Ginny, back to our plans. Wednesday at the Leaky Cauldron? We can shop in Muggle London and Diagon Alley."

"Plans?" Harry asks, groggily.

"Ginny and I are going to go shopping on Wednesday. I'll be more or less fully recovered, we'll go slow, and, we'll have two escorts, in the form of Blaise and Seamus."

"Why Blaise?" Harry asks, but he sounds more curious than pissed off.

"He's going for a change in job. History bores him and he's decided he wants more of a challenge. Seamus has agreed to take him on. So, are we agreed?"

"Yes. We can get some Christmas shopping done - it's in two weeks, and what with everything going on, I haven't even started."

"Apologies and all that sort of thing."

"Yeah, could you try and avoid being poisoned and kidnapped and so on?" I joke.

"I'll do my best. Maybe something should go in the Prophet: Please do not kidnap or poison Miss Hermione Granger. She and her friends have an awful lot of Christmas shopping to be getting on with and the persistent attempts on her life are rather causing problems," she says, grinning at me.

"That's not funny," Harry says, but he's obviously holding back a smile.

"It's pretty funny," Draco says, laughing.

"Speaking of Christmas, Mum's having the usual celebration. Starts Christmas Eve, when you're all expected to show up and start decorating in a major way, have huge meal, stay overnight, wake up late, have some sandwiches, then spend hours and hours opening presents and playing the odd party game in the breaks, and then have huge Christmas dinner."

"I love Molly's Christmases," Hermione says, contemplating memories. "Draco, brace yourself."

"Am I invited?" he asks, his face literally lighting up.

"Obviously. You're Mum's new best pal since you saved Hermione in that pub. And even if you weren't her new adopted son, you'd be coming anyway. Christmas Eve dinner is always duck, jacket potatoes and roasted vegetables, so it contrasts with Christmas Dinner, in which enough food is served to rival the Hogwarts Welcoming Feast. Prepare thyself, food is coming!" There is general laughter.

"We won't have it as bad as you, Ginny, seeing as how you're eating for two now!"

"Oh God, please don't remind me."

"Little bump reminds us all every day," Harry says, reaching out to pat my tummy. I smile at him, and he leans over to kiss me.

"People, we're at the table."

"Then don't look," Harry suggests, resuming kissing. I slide my hands into his hair and respond enthusiastically.

HPOV

I decide to leave them to it and take Draco through to the living room. We throw Harry's blankets to one side and sit down together.

"Have you decided what you want for Christmas?" I ask him. "Molly will go freelance, but I want to have ideas. I know for Ginny and Harry and pretty much everyone else, but what do you want?"

"Surprise me."

"Oh, I do hate it when people say that. But fair enough."

"Hermione," he says, looking supremely uncomfortable.

"Yes, dear?" I say, absently, leaning into him a little. I want to be cuddled, though I'm not sure why. He doesn't question my action, just puts his arms around me and shifts around so we're lying back, me resting on his chest.

"I can't buy presents for people. I haven't any money. My assets are in Ministry hands and will be until I finish my probation. I don't get paid for doing what I do now, and I have no income. I have nothing - my Gringotts vault is sealed, and it's another thing I won't get back for nearly a year - next October, in fact." I wriggle round to look at him. Harry and Ginny are still in my kitchen, murmuring softly to each other. There's a line between his eyebrows. I can't begin to imagine how hard and humiliating all this is for him.

"I'm aware of the situation. For what it's worth, it's scarcely fair. You should at least get a wage of some sort. So I've made a decision. I worked out the wage you'd get paid if you were working for me. You're at the same level as Anna. And essentially, I'm going to pay you it. God knows, ninety percent of my income is money I'm never actually going to touch. They pay me far more than necessary at the Ministry. So I can easily afford a year's wages." He's silent for a long time, and for a moment I think I've offended him. "It's not charity, Draco. You've proved yourself trustworthy, to me, over and over. But you know the choice of the trial was non-appeal."

"I don't know what I did in some past life or in some other world. But it must have been pretty good. I don't deserve all this."

"To me, you do."


	27. Chapter 27

HPOV

Sunday rolls around, and I feel better than I have for months. It's been a while since I saw the whole Weasley clan together, and apparently this gathering is in honour of my own recovery and to welcome Blaise and Draco into the fold.

"Draco," I shriek down the stairs as the phone starts ringing shrilly.

"I've got it! Hello? Oh, Harry, hi. Yes. No, we aren't ready yet. Blaise isn't - oh wait, there's a knock at the door. Yes, it's him. Hermione isn't ready yet. I don't know how unready she is." There are footsteps on the stairs, and then my door is flung open. I shriek.

"Don't you knock?" I demand.

"She's half dressed," Draco announces into the phone. "Yes, I shall hurry her along. Soon, Potter." He clicks off. "Harry says get a bloody move on, Molly's driving him insane. And stop fussing, Granger, I've seen women with less clothes on than that before." He drifts out and I hear his voice and Blaise's deep rumble coming from downstairs. I yank on a long-sleeved grey top and pick out the battered blue button down I love to pieces.

_He gave me it after the magical summer. I was coming up for seventeen, and I knew what was ahead of us. We were going on the road, going after the Horcruxes, and he and I both knew it. We knew how dangerous it'd be. He was my last reckless act. He was my last risk, my last leap of faith, my last dizzying, carefree rush. Everything changed after it, and he was special because of it. He'd shown up at my door, very silently handed me a glittering ring. He told me that she'd left it on the table - there hadn't even been a note. I packed a bag, took his hand, took us to a Muggle hotel, and we made love, ate, slept and watched trash TV together for six straight days. His kiss was different to Harry's - Harry kissed me like he was on Death Row, Harry kissed me with urgency and passion. He kissed me so differently. His kisses were tender, feather-light, seduction without words. He made love to me where Harry ravaged me. Where Harry left me fighting for each painful gasp, where Harry bruised, he just kissed and left me complete. I would never have given up the battles that Harry and I had, but his touch was enough to sate me. At the end of that magical week, he kissed me sadly and thanked me. He gave me his favourite shirt._

"_I want you to wear it when you hunt him. Wear it and remember you'll break my heart if you don't come back." He did not love me and I did not love him. But we needed one another and we still do._

"Alright," I say, back in the present, looking at Blaise and Draco standing casually in my kitchen. "I am ready. Draco, come over here, and Blaise, you stand on my other side." They take a hand each, and I take a deep breath. Not a second later, we snap into existence in the crowded, cold front garden of the Burrow.

DPOV

My first thought is that there are a lot of people here, and my second is that the house behind them looks warm, and cosy. Molly Weasley is making for Hermione, but someone else has beaten her to it. A tall man with scars on his face and a fang on an earring has snatched her into his arms and is holding her close. Her arms are wrapped around his neck and she's got her face buried in his neck. She's holding onto him with arms and legs, and his arms are wrapped around her waist and thighs respectively, holding her very, very close. Ginny smiles and starts ushering people away. She doesn't do it subtly, and I get the feeling we could throw an orgy and they wouldn't notice.

"Mum, you'll get your chance. Let them have this reunion together. Look, Draco is very skinny, don't you think?" I'm descended upon by a maternal avalanche, and I've never felt so welcome anywhere. When everyone has filed into the crooked little house, Ginny smiles at me. "She's the most precious thing in the world to him. I had to physically stop him charging over this morning - he only got back from Egypt an hour ago. Come on. Time to let them reunite."

HPOV

I hold onto him for a long, long time.

"I should have been there," he growls in my ear, his voice rough and thick. "Anton shouldn't have got anywhere fucking near you, I should have come back the second I heard you'd been poisoned."

"Why didn't you?" I ask.

"I couldn't. They wouldn't let me leave."

"There, then."

"It shouldn't have stopped me. I swore to you, to myself, that I was going to keep you safe forever, and I wasn't there when you needed me. I failed you." I wriggle until he puts me back on the ground, and I reach up and hold his face still.

"Never say that. You did not fail me. You've never failed me."

"You're an angel without wings, Mione. Unless -" I see the wicked smile, and instinctively know what's coming. I make a bolt for it and he comes after me, catching me easily and running his hands over my back and ribs, making me shriek for help.

DPOV

All of a sudden, Hermione starts screaming like a banshee. Blaise and I leap up, but nobody else bothers. We look out the window, and the first thing we see is Hermione trying to hex Bill. She gets one in, and he crumples up.

"Did she get him with a Tickling Hex again?" Percy asks, peering out the window. He's changed since school - he's a lot more relaxed now, even seeming oblivious to his small daughter hanging off his legs. "Lucy, pet, that hurts Daddy. No, get down." She pouts, but does as she's told.

"Well, it just serves you right," Hermione comes in, admonishing a Bill who's rubbing his ribs.

"It leaves such a horrible sensation," he grumbles to nobody in particular. Hermione is taken up by Molly, who hugs Hermione to her. For the first time since I was invited here, I'm realising the enormity of this moment. This is Hermione's _family. _She fought beside these people, killed for them and I know she would have died for them. She's passed to George next, with whom I've shared a slightly awkward handshake and an even more awkward smile. I notice he's very brotherly with her, giving her a hug, but keeping it above the waist. She murmurs something in his ear, and his reply makes her smile. I notice she and Percy don't hug, but shake hands. Might have to ask her about that one later - as well as the Bill thing. I notice that as soon as she's stopped being handed round, he commandeers her again and they end up beside each other on one of the sofas. Clearly Hermione has spotted us standing on the fringes looking awkward, because she immediately gets back up and comes to drag us over to Bill. Neither of us have met him before.

"Honey, these are Blaise and Draco respectively. Blaise has just transferred to the Auror department and Draco is my personal everything as assigned by the Wizengamot at his trial/parole granting hearing." I'm sure he knows very well who we both are, and I offer him a smile - which, to my astonishment, is not only returned, but accompanied by him standing up and shaking both our hands.

"Bill. Eldest of the clan, I'm a Gringotts curse-breaker. Previously married, but she left."

"And that will always be her greatest mistake, brother dear," Ginny says, floating over to us, but with a slightly harassed look. "Hide me, Bill. If Mum offers me one more piece of advice about swollen ankles and sore boobs, so help me Merlin, I will hex her."

"Not something I needed to hear there, Gin. Why don't you and Hermione go up to my old room and have some girl time? I'll sit down here and distract her with Blaise and Draco."

"Good idea." Hermione and Ginny slip off while Molly is trying to persuade George to let her give him a "just a quick trim, dear, especially given your new job" and isn't paying attention to them sneaking out of the room.

"So," Bill says.

"Bill, whatever you have to say to us, I'm sure we've both heard worse," Blaise says.

"Thank you."

"Excuse us?"

"Ginny told me that you saved her life in that cellar. All of you, but most especially, Draco - you." Blaise is being beckoned by Molly.

"Excuse me, won't you?" he asks us, standing up. All that rich-boy training is pretty ingrained. Bill nods, and Blaise drifts away.

"I never knew people were that polite. Anyway, Draco, they've told me what happened in that cellar - how you tackled Runcorn without a wand. Without you, they couldn't have got near her, at least not when they did. Getting to her when they did, thanks to what you did, means she's alive and she's here. So you carry that scar you've got there with pride, like I carry mine and like Hermione carries hers. Never try and hide it, don't try and stand at an angle in photographs, don't make apology for it. Fleur left me because of mine - and the side-effects."

"Are you a full-blown werewolf?" I ask him, feeling that he's so open and friendly, I can ask such things.

"Thank God for people who just ask it!" he exclaims, banging me a bit forcefully on the back. "Oh, sorry. Used to this lot," he says, waving his hand, "being a little less brittle. You need feeding up. But now you're in the family fold, that shouldn't take long. No, Draco, I'm not a full werewolf. I do like meat raw round the full moon, and cooked rare on the other days. Hermione swears blind I'm a bit more animalistic with the protective front these days, but apart from that, I got off light. Fenir's still in Azkaban though, and with any luck, he'll die there."

"Do you blame me for Fred's death?" I ask him, bluntly. He looks hard at me.

"I did," he says. "For a long time, I did. But then, when I stopped being so angry with everything Voldemort, I took a few months out. Didn't even tell Hermione where I was going. It was right before she tried -" he swallows, and I'm shocked to see the tears glistening in his eyes. "You know. And I realised I could blame everyone - but could only justify really blaming a single person. Augustus Rookwood killed my brother. If he should ever be released from Azkaban -"

"He won't be," I say, viciously. Bill looks startled by sudden vehemence.

"How can you be so sure?" I look up at him, and decide instantly to tell him the secret I have told nobody else, and intended never to tell anyone.

"Because I killed him."


	28. Chapter 28

BillPOV

Because it's the only thing I can think of to do, I drag Draco outside. I take him into Dad's shed, and magic a fire into existence.

"If anyone comes in and asks, I'm showing you Dad's collection. Now, tell me what you meant in there." He looks wild, and he's staring at me.

"In Azkaban," he says hoarsely. "I stabbed him. With a broken bit of metal."

"Does anyone know about this?"

"No. Only my father knew, and he was stabbed the same day."

"Did you do that too?"

"No. I don't know who did, who cares? They both deserved to die, Bill."

"I'm not disputing that, I don't think anyone would. But if the Wizengamot found out, they'd be legally obliged to try you and they'd have to send you back to Azkaban whether they agreed with his death or not."

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"No. I just want to know why."

"I cannot tell you that." He grinds the words out.

"Can't?" I say, watching his face. "Or won't?" He gives me a tight smile.

"Both. I made a promise, so I won't tell. And I can't because it wouldn't be fair."

"Fair on who?"

"On Fred." He tries to push past me, but I'm a little too quick.

"Oh no, you don't. You've said too much now. I'm not letting you walk out now." He refuses point blank to meet my eyes, but he's not pulling out of my grasp.

"I'd tell you if it were different, if he were still here."

"Why would you tell me then and not now? Tell me why you killed a man you once fought alongside, Draco."

"Because he killed him."

"And what difference would that make to you? You were one of them, surely you should have celebrated!"

"_Bill!"_ Only her voice could have stopped me in my tracks. Hermione is looking at us with horror on her face. I look down, and realise exactly how I've got hold of Draco. He's bending back onto Dad's workbench, and I'm using physical weight to hold him there while my hands grip his arms.

"It's fine, Hermione. Bill has a point."

"I don't care, I don't - Bill, let him go!" I let Draco go hastily, and he stands up - but doesn't run.

"Hermione will tell you."

"Tell him what?"

"Why I killed Rookwood."

"You killed Rookwood? When?"

"In Azkaban."

"She didn't even know You'd killed him, why would she be able to tell me?"

"Because she's brighter than you, apparently. Hermione, I assume you're out here to tell us dinner is ready? I'll tell them you're just coming." He walks out, his shoulders stooped forward and slumped. I face Hermione.

"What the hell were you doing to him?" she demands, her eyes alight.

"I swear I don't know how he ended up like that. One minute I just hand hold of his arm, the next you came in and he was like that. I just wanted - he was being all vague."

"Yes, I heard the last bit. You really are a bit _dim_, aren't you dear."

"Just -"

"You can't tell anyone."

"Never," I say, immediately.

"Draco and Fred were in love."

"_What."_

"You heard me perfectly clearly, Bill," Hermione sighs, rolling her eyes. "It started in our fifth year, when Fred was in his sixth. They met, and I'm not sure of the details. Then everything with Voldemort started for Draco. He was so - so tortured by it. And Fred did everything he could to save him and when he couldn't, he blamed himself. And neither of them could tell anyone."

"Why didn't Fred tell us?"

"Why do you think? Announcing he was sleeping with Lucius Malfoy's son? How would you have taken that, Bill, how would all of you have taken that? And Draco couldn't tell his family, for good reasons."

"I - I would have -"

"No, you wouldn't have. You would have hit the roof - not because of him being gay, I know you would have accepted that, but you would never, never have accepted who he was sleeping with. Fred didn't want you all to have to worry and he didn't want to hear you all lecture him about his choice of lover. Now we cannot discuss this here, because we've already been out here alone for five minutes. Molly will come out and this is not my confidence to betray. Perhaps when Draco is ready, he will tell them about Fred. But it will not come from my lips, nor from yours."

"I can't believe I didn't know he was gay."

"We'll never know why he didn't tell you. Perhaps because if he told you, he'd have had to tell you who he was in love with. We have to go in now, Bill. Now."

"I know." But I catch at her anyway, and she turns so easily into my arms. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

"I don't think you hurt him. But he's a good person, and I am working to make people see that, and I just - I leapt to conclusions. Come on."

I follow her back inside and thankfully, nobody asks us where we've been. I assume Draco came up with a dazzling excuse. I look at George at various intervals throughout the meal, and I wonder if he knew. He must have - Fred was his twin, they spent every waking minute together. But I can't exactly go about asking him. It'd look like I had something to hide - which now, thanks to Draco and Hermione, I do. But Hermione, who's sitting next to me and obviously trying to gauge how much food she has to force down to make Mum happy, is right - I can't tell anyone. It wouldn't be at all fair.

"Hermione, darling, will you have some more potatoes? A few more vegetables? Perhaps some more sausages or bacon?"

"No, thank you, Molly. I've eaten as much as I can possibly hold."

"Are you _sure, _dear? Are you sure I can't tempt you?"

"Molly, dear, leave the poor girl alone." Dad intervenes. "I think the poor girl has really eaten enough. She's probably started preparing for Christmas dinner. Oh, everyone - you can start showing up any time after ten on Christmas Eve. Blaise - do you have plans for Christmas?" Blaise looks startled.

"Um, well, no. I normally spend it alone."

"My dear, you can come to us," Molly says instantly. "I'm sure Hermione would bring you anyway. You'd be most welcome."

"Thank you," Blaise says, almost shyly. "I really didn't expect - I wouldn't want you to feel obliged or anything, I mean, I'd be alright on my own -"

"Nonsense," Mum interrupts. "It's _Christmas. _You aren't spending it alone, and besides, we'd like you to be here."

"Just give in gracefully," Charlie advises Blaise. "She'll only spend the day fretting if you don't come." Blaise does as he's told and accepts gracefully.

They stay until early evening, until Blaise insists that he and Draco take Hermione home. As they're all saying goodbye, Hermione slips over to me. She gives me a hug, and then puts her lips to my ear.

"Come over?" I know exactly what she's asking.

"Are you sure?" I whisper back.

"Yes. I'll lower the wards, you can come right in, only don't be late."

"Midnight," I promise her, kissing her cheek. She smiles as she pulls away, and goes off for another hug from Mum. Dad prises her free, and kisses her cheek.

"See you Christmas Eve," he says, and she confirms this. She and Ginny make plans to meet up on Wednesday, to shop for Christmas gifts. And then the three of them have gone, and we're left to drift off the various occupations. George is curled up with Ginny on one of the sofas, stroking her tummy.

"Oh!" Ginny cries, sharply. Harry is at her side instantly.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern making his voice jump.

"I felt a kick," Ginny says, her face glowing.

"So did I," George says, looking at Ginny's tummy with wonder in his eyes. Harry places his hand gently on her stomach, and I can tell by seeing the smile spread across his face that he felt it too.

"Hermione," I say, "will be wild that she missed this." Ginny giggles.

"Good lord, she will be - only just this minute left, too. The first kick."

"And the last peaceful night's sleep," Mum says, smiling. "Especially if the baby takes after you, Ginny. You were an awful wriggler."

"Who was the least active?" Ginny asks, curiously. Mum grins.

"Fred and George, if you can believe it."

"You lie," George says, spiritedly. "No way were we the most peaceful."

"You were. Only wriggled during the day and even then not much. All the others were very active - and Ginny seemed to delight in kicking my spine relentlessly."

"Apologies."

"You'll find out soon enough, my dear. Even if the baby is peaceful, it's still uncomfortable."

"On that note," Harry says, getting up from his place by Ginny's side, "it's probably time Ginny and I were off. Valuable sleeping time and all that."

"It's barely eight -"

"Now, Molly. We understand, Harry. It was wonderful to see you, and we'll see you both at Christmas."

By midnight, the house is silent. I cast Silencing Charms on my room to mask the Apparation, and snap into her bedroom. She's standing by her window, looking out.

"Bill, come over here. Look at the stars."

"It's so clear tonight." I slide my arms around her waist and she leans back into me.

"Christ, Bill, I have missed you. I used to dream about you, and I'd wake up still feeling your hands on me."

"I know," I say, gripping her tighter. "I did the same, every night for months. And then I saw you at Hogwarts and you were filthy and getting ready to fight and I had never, ever seen you look so beautiful. And you barely had time to say hello and then we were fighting. And then -"

"Then the bad stuff happened," she says, softly.

"Then the bad stuff happened," I agree, stroking her hair. Then she turns in my arms and her lips are on mine again, and she's finally, finally, blissfully, back in my arms.

This isn't sex, and it isn't making love either. This is something more, something better. This is something far more tender than that, this is apology, requests to be forgiven, promises that we'll never break. This is the knowledge that we could be together for the rest of our lives and never recreate this moment, never again have this implosion of feeling and emotion, never again hold one another like there's nothing in the world but us and even that will soon be gone. So it won't happen again, and we both understand that. I want this moment engraved in my memory forever, so I never once take my eyes from her face as we take our fill of one another, as she drinks me in and I consume her. I watch her eyes fill with tears as I take her, and she kisses my eyes, lips, neck, with little soft, lingering kisses, kisses I'll never manage to forget. I watch her fall over her edge, and I feel myself fall with her. She smiles as she feels my fingers tracing her ribs and collar bone, feeling how thin she's become.

"I'm going to take care of you."

"I know."

"I can't tell you how I feel."

"I know that, too." We fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms, and the last thing I see is the half-smile still on her face.


	29. Chapter 29

DPOV

There's still no movement from Hermione's room at eleven the next morning. I make a cup of tea and decide I should probably go and check on her. I knock, but don't get an answer. I dither for a while, check the bathroom, but eventually decide I'd better go in. Her room is still dark, but I can see her shape under the covers - except the shape looks a little too big to be just Hermione, and there are definitely two people breathing. Well, this is all too obviously absolutely none of my business. Equally obviously, I creep a bit closer. I'm just curious about who she's got over. I get a glimpse of red hair and a fanged earring, and then Hermione stirs slightly. I creep back out as quickly and quietly as possible, and I don't think I wake either of them up. I call Blaise when I get back downstairs.

"Hello?"

"Blaise, it's Draco."

"Oh hey."

"Hey. I need to ask a question."

"Oh my god."

"No, no, it's nothing bad! It's just - Hermione has had an - an overnight guest."

"Really? Do we know him?"

"It's Bill."

"You don't say? Thought there was something going on there. What is your question? Do you want in on the action?"

"Oh please, you're so crude. No. Only thing is, he's still here, neither of them are awake - and I don't know how to act when they do eventually get up. I mean, do I mention it, do I ignore it, do I hide in my room until he's gone?"

"Jesus, it has been a fucking long time since you socialised. Just act like shit's normal. By the way, what do you want for Christmas."

"Bloody hell, everyone keeps asking me this and I keep telling them I don't know. Most people are just using their initiative. Do that."

"I don't have initiative. Tell me what you want."

"I don't really want anything."

"My God, you're difficult -"

"Oh, there's movement from upstairs. I'm going to get off the phone. Shall I make them both tea?"

"Yes, Draco, make them some tea."

"Bye."

"Bye. Idiot."

I make tea, and decide to shout up the stairs to enquire if either of them want food.

"Hermione, do you want breakfast?" There's a momentary silence. I want to laugh.

"Uh - Draco, do you think you could make tea for two?" Hermione's voice is two octaves higher than it would be normally. I can't do this and keep a straight face.

"I could. Can I also provide toast for two?" There's another silence.

"Look, Draco, I'm here too," Bill's voice says, sounding defeated.

"I'm aware of it."

"Ah. Well, in that case, we would very much like breakfast."

"I shall put the toast in." I curl up on the sofa with a massive catalogue from somewhere named Argos to get gift idea for Mr Weasley, and two pairs of feet sound on the stairs just as the toast pops up.

"Moooooorning."

"Shut up," Hermione orders. Bill winks at me.

"Dad will love anything out of there, especially if it lights up, moves and/or is a child's toy." I flip to "Toys" and start poring over the stationary images, trying to imagine what they'd look like if they were moving. I hear toast being munched and tea being drunk, and then Bill announces that he should depart. Hermione sees him to the door, there's some murmuring, and then the front door clicks closed.

"Draco, darling."

"Yes Hermione."

"You have three seconds to run like hell for making this morning one of the most awkward moments of my life." Not a single second later, she pounces from behind the sofa.

"Clearly," I say, trying to reach her ribs to poke and tickle, "this isn't fair. That was not three seconds."

"You have three seconds from when I said three seconds, not from when I finished speaking."

"You didn't - ouch, that hurt - make that very clear." I finally manage to pin her down and start tickling her.

"No, no, no! Draco, please don't, not there, I'm ticklish! I'll hex you and I mean it!" Remembering what happened to Bill at the Weasley's last night, I decide she probably means it and let her go. We cuddle down onto the sofa together.

"So what is the deal, exactly, with you and Bill?"

"Good question."

"Are you going to answer it?"

"I suppose. It's complicated - and at the same time, it's the simplest thing in the world. We don't love each other, if that's what you're asking, not in the way that means we'd get married and start a family together. I was there at a time when he needed comfort and I was there at a time when we both needed something and he was there when I needed him to be."

"Makes sense to me."

"Molly thought it was a family-beginning thing. She was desperate to have me become a Weasley. I'm already her daughter, but I think she wanted the name on it. But me and Bill - we knew it wasn't going to be that, we just needed what the other could give at the time. So it was nice. And I suppose last night was a celebration. He needed to know I was better, so I decided I'd prove I was."

"Fair enough." I suppose the question she asks me next is inevitable.

"Can I ask you about Fred?" I stiffen. "You don't have to answer. You don't have to tell me about him if you'd rather not. I'd just like - I guess I'd like to know the Fred you knew, because he could never show us that side."

"He was - he was something else, Hermione. He was funny and witty and clever. He challenged me - he was never even slightly afraid of me, or who he knew I would become. He challenged me by pushing me as far as he could and then over that edge. I'm still not sure if he was doing it with seduction in mind or whether he just wanted to piss me off and what happened after was just a side effect and added bonus. He used to follow me round the castle with those damn _Weasley's Wizard Wheeze's_ tricks - the Darkness Powder, throwing Canary Creams at me, pick-pocketing my wand and replacing it with those trick wands. And one day I finally had enough, and I slammed him against a wall and told him if he didn't stop bothering me I'd strangle him with my bare hands. He asked me if my father would hear about this - and then he kissed me. Or I kissed him. I'm not sure who kissed who and really, it doesn't matter. The next thing I knew, we were up on the seventh floor and outside the Room. Then we were in the room and we were making love. I saw him every night after that. He was tender but strong, and it was only with him that I felt comfortable enough to surrender all control. I'd never met anyone quite like him. After the Easter break, when I came back - you know what I was by then, or perhaps you thought that didn't happen for me until our sixth year? - I knew something had changed irreversibly, and that we were never going to make the long haul. We went to the Room for the last time, and we made love one last time, and then he said that we couldn't do what we were doing anymore. I'd chosen my side, and now, because of my actions in choosing that side, he couldn't do it any more. I agreed with him. He kissed me goodbye, and we never saw each other in private again. Then - then I found out Rookwood had set off the blast that killed him. Part of me was pleased when I got sent to Azkaban, and I knew instantly that I would be able to kill him very easily. So I waited and waited and waited - for five and half years, I waited. And then I got my chance. The guards had their backs turned, and there was some metal on the floor. I knew I'd never get another chance, so I picked up the metal, walked over to him, and jammed it into his heart. And as he died, I told him why I was doing it. I genuinely enjoyed killing him, Hermione." She's very quiet for a very long time, and then she cuddles in.

"Thank you for killing him."

"It was my pleasure."

"I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry we couldn't save him for you."

"Don't apologise. I wouldn't trade what I had in those months with Fred for anything, and it wouldn't have been the same if we'd got to have each other after the war. We would both have been so changed and so damaged. We could never have had that magic again."

"You don't know -"

"Yes, I do, Hermione. We would never, ever have looked at each other in the same way again. He would never look at me in the same way again. He'd always look at me and see the boy who didn't have the courage to do the right thing, even for love. He'd always see a traitorous coward, even if he did manage to forgive me. I should have gone to Dumbledore, he would have protected me. Fred told me, he begged me to ask for help and I wouldn't. I couldn't. I was so scared, so scared I couldn't even do it for him. So we said goodbye, and anything we might have had was gone forever."

"Did - did anyone know? About the two of you?"

"George did. Fred told me that he'd told him, and that was only right. He kept our secret. Did you know he came to see me after we got out of that cellar?" Hermione reaches up and kisses my scar, the same thing she always does when I talk about it's origins.

"No."

"It was - it was almost horrible. I almost couldn't bear to look at him. I was so afraid I'd see accusation and anger. I was afraid I'd see Fred. We talked about Fred for hours and hours. He wanted to know my Fred too, like I wanted to know his. And he didn't blame me for being a coward. He didn't shout at me for hurting his brother - I know I did hurt him, and pretty badly. He always hoped I'd see the light, go to Dumbledore, get help, get protection, do the right thing. Right up until the end, right up until he and George made their bid for freedom. I'm glad he didn't see me in sixth year - I'm fairly sure what I became would have broken his heart." There's a silence between us. "Does that answer all your questions?"

"I'm glad he had you to love. I'm glad you had him."


	30. Chapter 30

HPOV

Wednesday dawns bright and clear. I was supposed to be back at work by now, but Kingsley sent instructions to Harry and Draco a while ago, telling them both to tie me down if they had to - but that I wasn't to go back to work until after the New Year Ball. I've done plenty of work, plenty of reformations have gone through - it won't set the Wizarding World back years if I have some more time off than planned. So Ginny and I wrap up warm, and meet in the Leaky Cauldron for a day's shopping. I've given Draco into the charge of Harry and Blaise, figuring that Kingsley won't mind too much and if the Wizengamot start fussing, they can take a flying leap.

"It's bloody freezing," Ginny remarks, as she waves at me from the corner of the Leaky. "Lets do this quick, with regular coffee shop breaks."

"I agree. Do you have your list?"

"Yes, here. Do you have yours? What am I saying, of course you do. What are you getting Draco?"

"Well, I'm in two minds. Really, I should get him clothes or something equally practical, because he barely has any possessions, but I also want to get him something nice that he'd actually want," I say.

"Well, Harry and I are getting him a pet, but we wanted to ask you if you'd feel like we were replacing Crookshanks if we got him a cat?"

"Oh no," I say. "It might be nice to have another cat in the house. But does Blaise know of the pet plan? So he doesn't get him one too?"

"Oh yes, Harry told him at the weekend. We'd better do that nearer the time though, we couldn't keep it secret all that time."

"The Magical Menagerie delivers. We could ask," I say. As we're right outside, we go in and enquire about cats. We decide on a black kitten who will be just ready to leave her mother at Christmas, and Ginny arranges the delivery for Christmas Day morning. While we're in there, I look around for inspiration for everyone else, and find myself drawn to a book about Egyptian Magical Creatures of the Ancient period, and purchase it for Bill, knowing he'd appreciate it. For Harry, I steer Ginny into Flourish and Blot's, and ask her if Harry would appreciate a veritable tome about _Defending Against Jinxes, _which is a fairly light-hearted book about defending oneself against typical school-yard jinxes. Ginny flicks through it and confirms that he should like it, so I make that purchase, and also pick up a book for myself, which makes Ginny roll her eyes. "What?" I ask, as we pay. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I think you single-handedly keep this place in business."

"Oh, what nonsense," I say, cheerfully. "Come on - what do you think your mother would like as a gift?"

"She's been banging on about wanting a new cauldron - 'cept they haven't really had the cash." If any of us thought for even a second that the Weasley's would take it, we'd give them enough cash to make the rest of their lives comfortable. Except Harry, Ron and I have all tried it on multiple occasions, and each time we've been told not to be so silly.

"Then I shall get her that - oh, and that multi-coloured wool."

"Multi-coloured wool?"

"Yeah, I got it from a Muggle shop, ages ago - it's a ball of knitting wool that's about fifty different colours. Expect a multi-coloured baby blanket."

"How lovely." I elbow her in the ribs. "You can't attack me in such a manner. I'm a pregnant woman."

"Don't be snippy. It'll be nice."

"Oh, brainwave!" Ginny shrieks. I wince in mock indignation, and it's my turn for an elbow to the ribs. "Look!" I look, and come face-to-face with a massive "Sale" sign in the window of the broomstick shop.

"What?"

"I can get Ron the Firebolt! Look, it's reduced! He'd love it."

"Can you afford it?" I ask.

"I can if you go splits with us. It can be from the three of us. Then Draco and/or Blaise can get him the Broomstick servicing kit."

"Good plan!" We go in, and a smiling sales assistant comes over.

"Can I be of - _Ginny?_"

"Katie!" I blink, and realise it's Katie Bell from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. We haven't seen her for years. "I thought you were in America, playing for the league?" Ginny questions, hugging her.

"I was, didn't you hear? I got myself injured - bloody Bludger to the shoulder, shattered it completely. They fixed it up, but I can't grip the handles right now - so I took retirement and came back here."

"Blimey. Oh, Katie, you remember Hermione?"

"Of course! Hermione, how are you? Read about what happened in the _Prophet -_ I sent flowers, but I don't blame you if you never got them or don't remember them. I bet hundreds of people sent you flowers."

"They did. But thanks for the gesture - the hospital ward was most fragrant," I joke, and she laughs.

"Oh God, my boss is eyeing me malevolently. We'll have to catch up - I'll write to you both, if you promise to write back. What can I do for you?"

"We want to get Ron the Firebolt for Christmas, now it's not soul-selling expensive." Katie laughs and leads us over to the display.

"You and everyone else. Here, you timed this right, there's only a couple left."

"Tell me," I say, "are you selling this reduced because there's something even snazzier coming out?" Katie looks around.

"No. It's a ploy - they want business to pick back up again."

"Impressively sneaky. There's probably a market at the Ministry for cunning like that." We make our purchase, and ask Katie to reserve the latest Broomstick Servicing Kit, telling her one Blaise Zabini will be coming in to get it. We say goodbye, promise to owl one another, and leave the shop with the Firebolt safely Shrunk and tucked into the shopping bags.

"I'm going to have to go to Gringotts," Ginny remarks, looking into her purse.

"Oh God, coffee first. If you haven't the money, I'll get this round, you can get round two." "Deal." We go into The Niffler, a little café just tucked down a little side street. I get us both hot chocolates, and then we get out our Christmas lists.

"It's odd," I say, slowly. "I'd've thought it'd be busier, so close to Christmas."

"It is Wednesday. Most people have jobs."

"I have a job."

"Yeah, but you're not doing it."

"That's because Kingsley won't let me. He thinks I'm fragile."

"You are, look at you, you're so skinny."

"You sound alarmingly like your mother." She flicks a sugar packet at me and I catch it and throw it right back. "Now don't start," I tease. "Now, I've done Harry, Bill, Ron -"

"Is this your Christmas list or your past conquests?"

"Your mother… Yeah, not funny, is it. So, I need to buy yours, Draco, Blaise, Molly's cauldron, something for your father, George, Percy, Charlie - have I forgotten anyone?"

"I don't think so. I have the same list. Come on, finish your drink, we'll get going."

We're out all day, and I get nearly all of my shopping done. All I have left to do is Blaise and Charlie - but I've organised for Charlie's to be ordered in, and I can collect it at the weekend. When we get into the Leaky, Ginny and I arrange to meet again on Saturday, this time with Draco and Harry in tow so we can supervise their shopping. Ginny refuses to Apparate until I've gone, and I want to pick up food for dinner.

"Do you ever go food shopping?"

"We need to. I keep letting it get out of hand. Here, lets go out into the Muggle side, so I can phone home and ask what they fancy. Why don't I tell Harry to stay, you can eat with us?"

"I suppose we can do that." I phone home.

"Hello, Draco. Yes, yes, we're fine. We've had a very fruitful day. You must all hide in the kitchen and not look when we get there, because we shall be hiding the gifts in my room, and they will be warded. Yes, Harry, because I know good and well how nosy you are. Now, Ginny and you are staying for dinner, which we shall pick up. What do you people want? Pizza, Indian, Chinese, KFC?" I hear him holding some kind of living room poll, and then reporting back that their consensus is KFC. "Alright. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Get plates ready, and I mean ready. Oh, and do we have ample ketchup? We do? Good. Bye."

"What's for foods?"

"KFC. Come on."

The boys, miracle of miracles, have got the plates ready, and are all set up in the living room, complete with movie. Ginny and I sneak the bags into my wardrobe and I ward it securely, after we've un-Shrunk the Firebolt.

"So what have you boys done today?" I ask, when we're all tucking into chicken and chips.

"Oh, we went shopping."

"Oh, where?"

"Muggle town not so far away."

"How wonderfully vague. Get a lot done?"

"Actually, we're done."

"I don't believe a word."

"Me neither," Ginny says, narrowing her eyes. "What did you _really _do today?"

"No, honestly," Blaise insists. "We're done. Did it all today."

"Hmmm. Well, I shall simply retain my scepticism until Christmas."

"Very well. You shall have to apologise when you're proved wrong."

"I will do no such thing. We have one or two bits to collect that weren't in stock, and we're doing that at the weekend. Pass the ketchup, Draco." He picks up the bottle between his wrists, and we have a little back and forth where we both try and avoid touching the bottle with our greasy fingers. Blaise suddenly checks his watch.

"I'm going to have to make a move I'm afraid, I'm on the night shift. This has been lovely, and we'll have to do it again sometime, but I must be moving on."

"We'd best be moving, actually. I don't want Ginny out too late, it's very cold."

"Aren't you sweet. No, we'll clear. See you later." We all say goodbyes, and I make Draco promise he won't try and poke about for his gift, and he, in return, makes me promise I won't go looking for my present.

We spend the rest of the evening decorating our Christmas tree the Muggle way, and I take multiple pictures as he gets tangled in first the lights, and then the tinsel. He's swearing under his breath.

"Now, now."

"What are you going to do with these pictures?"

"Show them to the people we know. It'll be a laugh."

"Give me the camera."

"No."

"Yes, give it to me. I wish to destroy it."

"No, it's mine."

"I shall find it later."

"No you won't. You'll not see this camera - or the pictures on it - until I show them to people. At Christmas, after the food and the wine, when you probably won't care anyway."

"Fine. I'm banishing you from the room for a little bit later, by the way. We must wrap gifts, and then go into other rooms to wrap our gifts for one another." He looks absurdly excited.

"Anyone would think you've never done this before."

"Well, I haven't." I stop hanging little wooden figures on tree branches, and look at him.

"You must have celebrated Christmas."

"Oh no, we did. But it was all stilted and formal and cold. It wasn't like this. This is warm and cosy and busy. You've seen the Manor. Can you imagine having a warm Christmas there? It was just the three of us in a cold, cavernous room, and all the extravagance and expense of it can't compare to this - the two of us now, and everything waiting on Christmas Day, because this is more real somehow."

"What will you do with the Manor? When you get it back?"

"Break the wards and sell it."

"That was quick."

"It isn't home. Not really, not now. I've changed too much, and it's too painful a reminder of what I was, of who my parents were. I'll sell it, find a place somewhere. Somewhere like this." I smile at him, and stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"You'll find your happy ending, Draco. I know it."


	31. Chapter 31

DPOV

Hermione and I spend the last few days leading up to Christmas doing precious little. Three days before Christmas, she ties two more ornaments onto our tree. They came this morning, and she seemed very excited by them. When she's out of the room and dithering about upstairs, I inspect them closely. One is a reindeer and one is a snowflake, both with little names on them. I have to look closely, but I see the reindeer reads "Draco" and the snowflake reads "Blaise" - and that they are in the same writing as her other little name ornaments. We're on her Christmas tree. I can't believe she put us on her Christmas tree.

"Thank you," I call up the stairs, because I can't think of anything else to say that wouldn't sound superficial or silly.

"It's fine. I'm bringing down the presents and the wrapping paper and the Sellotape, are you going to get yours?" We spread ourselves out on the living room floor, and she puts on a CD of Muggle Christmas music. It's a very far cry from Cassandra, the Wizarding crooner who seems to do nothing but holiday music. This is cheerful nonsense, by the sounds of it, and it makes me laugh.

"Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul, With a corncob pipe and a button nose, And two eyes made out of coal. Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale, they say, He was made of snow but the children, Know how he came to life one day."

"What is this nonsense?"

"Don't be a spoilsport, it's gentle fun. It's Frosty the Snowman."

"Which is a song about a snowman."

"Yes."

"That comes to life."

"Yes."

"I thought this was a Muggle song."

"It is. Frosty comes to life because of the magic of Christmas. Don't laugh, it's nice."

"I'm sure."

"You miserable old git."

"Thank you." We wrap presents, Hermione singing along with a lot of the songs. She doesn't always hit the tune and she doesn't always carry it, but she's not a bad singer. Her singing voice is surprisingly light and gentle. She's quite good a wrapping too. I am rubbish. She looks over and sighs.

"Come on, let me help." She shows me how to put the present on the edges of the paper and roll it, rather than trying to make bits meet. Of course, she can wrap the awkward stuff, so in the end she delegates me to writing labels while she wraps, and shows me how to make ribbon curl by running scissors along it. I enjoy this so much I start decorating every present to within an inch of it's life, and Hermione laughs as I try and stick bits on her too. The doorbell rings halfway through me trying to decorate her, and she gets up to answer it. I hear murmured voices and then she calls to me.

"Draco, have we wrapped George's gifts?"

"Yes, we have."

"Very well, then, in you come."

"I was just passing," George explains, "and I thought I'd drop by and come and see you both. Also, I can take some of the presents back to the house if you like, save you carting them all over Christmas Eve."

"Oh, would you? That'd be very helpful."

"Can I get you a drink?" I offer him, noticing that he's red with cold and wind, and figure he must have flown.

"Yes please, Draco. Just a quick one though, I've got the feeling snow's coming." We do try and make it a quick one, but when he opens the door to leave, we can barely see the garden gate through the whirling flakes.

"You are not flying anywhere in this, let alone all the way to the Burrow," Hermione says firmly. "You can either stay here until it's less horrendous, or you can Apparate, and we'll bring everything with us at Christmas."

"I'll stay for a while," George says, looking almost relieved. I'm not the only one who's noticed either. "George," she says, menacingly, "exactly where have you come from to be 'just passing'?" He mumbles something incoherent. "I didn't catch that."

"Hogwarts." She utters a noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff.

"You silly boy. Go upstairs, have a hot bath. I shall make something delicious for dinner." She reminds me so strongly of Molly Weasley I have to blink a few times just to make sure it's still her. George goes off to do her bidding, and she goes off towards the kitchen.

"Oh, Draco, he's not stayed before, go and show him where towels are and how the bath works. He's not to try and magic it!" I go upstairs sharpish, worried I'll be the next one to be told off for doing something silly.

"George, Hermione asked me to bring you towels and show you how the bath works - she says don't magic it." I say, tapping on the bathroom door. He calls out for me to come in, and I hand the towels over. "The towel racks heated - here, I'll switch it on. It'll make the towel all warm when you're done." I show him how to work the bath, and make him promise that if he can't do it, he'll call me, that he mustn't use magic on it. He promises to do so, and then I realise exactly who I'm alone with - and exactly how identical he and Fred really are. Either he's using Occlumency or he's just really good at reading emotions on faces, but he seems to know exactly what's on my mind.

"I know how hard it is for you to look at me." I look at him immediately.

"It isn't -"

"Yes, it is. I saw it last week at dinner. You can't look at me without seeing my brother."

"That's not it," I murmur. He steps closer because he has to - he can probably barely hear me. "I find it hard to look at you because I'm so afraid I'll see too much of Fred. That what made me love him will be in your eyes too. That I won't be able to stop myself from either breaking down or kissing you in some vain hope that it'd be anything like kissing Fred would be." There is very tense silence. "And that, right there, that reaction: that is why I find it hard to look at you. Call if you need anything." I leave the bathroom and go downstairs, offering my - vastly improved as of late - culinary skills to Hermione to help her make the "something delicious", which turns out to be sausage casserole. George joins us about forty minutes later, looking very much warmer, which does absolutely nothing to stop Hermione forcing him onto the sofa in front of the fire, and wrapping him in a fluffy blanket. The dinner is wonderful, and George obviously feels fortified enough to challenge her treatment of him.

"Hermione, I really would have been fine."

"Which is what everyone always says right before they get pneumonia. What on earth possessed you to fly back from Hogwarts at this time of year?"

"Well, I had to go to talk to McGonagall about the job, and I decided I'd fly there. It's been a while since I got on a broom."

"So you chose today of all days?"

"Yeah. Look, Hermione, I didn't think it through and I would deserve a horrible cold."

"Yes, you would. How's the casserole."

"It's truly amazing. As good as Mum's."

"Thank you for the compliment." She's clearly softening.

"And thank you for the warmth and comfort. I appreciate it a lot."

"Yes, well. Have you finished your Christmas shopping?"

"Yeah, got the last bits today in Hogsmeade. I assume you're very prepared?"

"Yes, just a few bits left to wrap. We'll be over around midday - tell Molly we're driving there. I don't want to Apparate or fly, there's so much stuff to take."

"Fair enough."

"The snows stopped," I say. Hermione glances out of the window.

"For now. George, you can stay the night if you want, but I don't think you should fly. You can leave everything here and Apparate if you don't want to. We can bring everything over on Christmas Eve."

"Probably better idea. I'll head back, Mum will probably need me to help with various bits and pieces. Are you sure you're alright to bring my things?"

"Absolutely."

"They're already wrapped and labelled, you don't have to anything but bring it - I'll take the broomstick. See you, Draco."

"Yeah, see you."

"Ask Molly to send an owl with whatever she wants us to bring by way of food for tea or anything to drink."

"I will, thanks for putting me up."

"Perfectly fine dear. I'd say any time, but if you do this again, I may have to kill you."

"Understood." She shows him out, and then comes back into the kitchen, shaking her head.

"That boy doesn't get any better, no matter how old he is. Flying back from Hogwarts, tonight of all nights."

"How are you planning to drive to Molly's if this weather stays?"

"Oh come on, I am a witch. I'll just Charm the tyres and we'll be fine. The roads will be clear anyway, they grit pretty fast. We'll leave at ten-thirty instead of eleven, just to make sure we have plenty of time if the roads are bad."

"Alright. I've never been in a car before."

"Ah, it'll be fun. It's sort of like being a broomstick, but you're enclosed and on the ground."

"Oh, OK. Shall we finish wrapping the presents?"

"Yeah, might as well."

For the first time in a long time, I dream about Fred that night.

_I'm in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts again, the place that is such dizzying happiness and such crushing depression all in one. He's leaning very casually on the post of our bed, wearing a shirt and jeans. He's grinning at me, my grin, the one that clearly says he doesn't give a shit about a single thing, and just wants to do his own thing. _

"_You're late. Six years late, find an excuse for that."_

"_You're dead, find an excuse for that." He smiles wider._

"_Sorry about that. Should've been quicker I suppose."_

"_Probably a good idea."_

"_Indeed." We stand in silence for a little while, and I look around the Room. It's changed now - it looks like Hermione's living room, but with a bed instead of sofas. "It's your dream. I think it's where you've been happiest - the Room with me, and Hermione's house. She has good taste."_

"_I don't - the Hogwarts ghosts - are you still here?"_

"_No. Not like that. Cheesy as it is, I'm always with you, even when you don't see me."_

"_Where are you then?" His smile vanishes._

"_I can't tell you that, Draco. The living cannot know."_

"_But -"_

"_I can only tell you that we'll see each other again. And that you're going to find happiness again, in the least likely place."_

"_With your brother?"_

"_No, that's not unlikely, that's just weird."_

"_Can I - can I touch you?"_

"_It's your dream." I take that as a yes, and move towards him. He's solid. He's so real, and so warm. This is more of a memory than a dream. It's so real. He moves now, and he wraps me in his arms, and I immediately find the niche where my head rested so perfectly. Without making any conscious thought towards it, we're cuddled together on the bed, and we're definitely both naked under the covers. "Your dreams are interesting."_

"_It's the first time they haven't been nightmares." As I kiss him, I'm aware of the fading starting. "No, don't go. Stay."_

"_I'm sorry. We will be together again." He kisses me this time._

I can still feel his lips on mine like a ghostly memory when I wake up. My cheeks are wet, and I could swear I could feel his hands on my arms. It was all so real.

_We will be together again…_


	32. Chapter 32

HPOV

To my relief, it doesn't snow again between the day George came over and Christmas Eve, but icy cold ensures that it's all still around, glittering and shining like a million miniscule diamonds, making the world oddly silent and still. I wake Draco up, make us some toast, and then get him to help me load the car. We've spent the last few days baking, after Molly sent the usual contribution list, and we discovered she'd assigned us to bring cakes. It transpires that Draco has quite the knack for baking, and he makes some little fruit cakes, and seems very proud of them. We manage to set off on time, having triple-checked that we've got everything and nothing has been left behind. Draco does not like the car one little bit, and complains he's feeling sick before we've gone five miles. I pull over, do some Charms to make the ride smoother and settle his stomach, and encourage him to sleep if he can, especially if he still feels ill. He protests that he does feel very much better already, and actually makes quite chatty. As I don't really like spells to tackle illness, I pull up outside a pharmacy that's mercifully open and get him some travel-sickness pills and some apple juice. He much prefers this and becomes most chatty. He asks endless questions about how the car works, not one of which I'm able to answer. Then of course, he manages to get bored and starts up with "Are we there yet?"

"Oh my dear God, you are the worst passenger ever. We are very nearly there, about another half an hour providing we do not hit traffic. Answer my mobile."

"How?"

"Press the green button on the screen, and then use it like a regular phone."

"Hello?" he hollers. An indignant voice issues from the phone.

"Don't shout!"

"Sorry, hello?"

"Draco? It's Ron, my Mum wants to know if you'll be here soon."

"Hermione said half an hour if we don't hit - hit traffkic."

"Traffic," I say, smothering a laugh.

"Raffic," he says, brightly.

"No, traffic. T-raffic.

"Traffic. Soon."

"Alright then," I hear Ron laughing. "We'll see you soon. Watch out for Raffic."

"Shut up, Weasley. OK, how do I put it down?"

"Press the red button."

"That was fun." He does manage to control himself for the rest of the journey, and when we pull up outside the Burrow, he's almost bouncing in his seat from sheer excitement. The door has already opened and Arthur is already heading for the car.

"Arthur, don't touch the car please, it does not need improving. We're going to need assistance out here!" I call towards the Burrow, and Bill and George appear. We all load ourselves with bags and head into the warm living room, which is almost completely dominated by a huge Christmas tree, which is singing Muggle Christmas carols at intervals and covered all over with twinkly lights. Blaise is already here, looking like he's taking root on the sofa for all eternity - he's got Ginny's feet in his lap and Pig the owl has perched on his shoulder and gone to sleep, while Ginny's pygmy puff Arnold is rolling about all over him. He looks bemused but reasonably settled. Draco grins mischievously and slinks up behind him before he sees him and shrieks in his ear.

"Hello, Blaise!" Blaise nearly falls off the sofa in shock, Pig wakes up with a screech and digs his claws into his shoulder, and Arnold squeaks in fear and rolls down the neck of Blaise's sweater, and all we can see is a rapidly moving lump which just makes him laugh and means nobody can be angry, because the sight of Blaise rolling about on the floor grabbing at his jumper and crying with laughter is just far too funny.

"Blaise, Blaise, stop wriggling, you'll hurt Arnold!" Ginny cries, shaking with her own laughter. Draco, meanwhile, is arranging our Christmas gifts under the tree, making sure they aren't grouped by giver, but are rather all mixed in and jumbled. I scan the heap, and can't see a single thing that could be Ron's broom.

"Where's the broom?" I mouth at Ginny, thinking for a horrible moment I was given it to look after and it's been left at home.

"Upstairs," she murmurs back.

"Alright, you people!" Molly shouts over the din, but she's smiling. "Dinner is ready, in the kitchen." The Weasley table is groaning with the usual collection of food, and Molly is getting ready to dish up. I end up sitting next to George, and he seems to be returning my fussing by piling my plate with so much food I barely have space to cut it up, and eagling me throughout the meal to make sure I'm eating.

"Hey," I ask, suddenly realising what's missing, "where're Percy and Penelope?"

"Oh, they're not coming until tonight, they're spending the day with Penelope's parents - they alternate Christmas Eves. They'll be here about eight. Lucy will probably wake us all up at about six, so early nights all round I think. She'll want to be opening her stocking and then we can do presents or whatever people fancy," Molly explains.

"Lucy will want to do presents first thing."

"Then we'd better all do them first thing."

"That's alright. I shall want help cooking though!"

"We'll all pitch in, Mum, don't worry."

"Hermione, Draco, do you both have enough to eat?" Molly asks.

"Yes, thanks, I'm just fine."

"I could put some more away," Draco says, brightly. He eats with almost indecent enthusiasm, and actually reminds me quite forcefully of Ron at Hogwarts, who always used to eat like he never had before and never would again.

"You'd think I don't feed him," I joke, and a laugh rings round the table. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a real, proper Weasley Christmas, where everyone is here, everyone is laughing and nobody is worried about Voldemort and fighting, or where someone is. Bill is sitting opposite me, looking at me like he's trying to drink me in - almost as if he expects that these next days will be the last he ever sees of me. I pay limited attention, however, because he's been looking at me like that for years. For one brief moment, I imagine what it'd be like to settle down with Bill and simply ignore the fact that we don't love each other enough to do that and just rely on amazing sex to get us through. He smiles at me, almost sadly, and I think he must have thought the same thing at some point - and arrived at the conclusion that it wouldn't be enough for either of us after two or maybe three years.

Finally, when Molly is satisfied that everyone has consumed plenty of food - and most of us are sinking into some kind of food-induced stupor - we adjourn to the living room. I sit with Ginny, curled around each other in a big, squashy armchair which I'm pretty sure was conjured for this holiday, and I stroke her bump, feeling the little flutters against my hand.

"I can't believe I wasn't here when this happened the first time," I grumble, and get a few laughs.

"Nor can we," Harry says, from where he's sitting with George, discussing their separate careers at Hogwarts. They're also drinking beer, but I've gone into a show of solidarity with Ginny and we're sharing a jug of pumpkin punch, and guarding it against Arnold, who seems to be attempting to drown himself in it. Draco, Blaise and Bill are playing Exploding Snap on the floor under the Christmas tree, and Molly is watching them like a hawk, afraid that one of the small explosions will set the tree on fire. I look around, making absolutely sure everyone is engaged with their own pursuits, and put my head close to Ginny's, snuggling in with her.

"Do you think I'll ever have this?" I ask, patting her tummy. She jerks a bit, and looks at me, evidently quite startled.

"Do you want this?"

"Yes." I say, simply. "I've only just started to realise it." She grins at me. "Don't smile like that!"

"Like what?" she says, smirking all the wider.

"All knowing and smug."

"It's a perfectly normal thing to want. You see, everyone goes through something called puberty, and that's when you're ready to have a child, and at some point in a woman's life -"

"I swear to God, I'll pinch you," I say, mock-threateningly, nipping my fingers together.

"In all seriousness, darling, it is natural. Who would you want to have little Hermione's with?"

"I don't think I'd thought that far ahead. It's just - seeing you and Harry so happy."

"You know, you have to think about whether you want a baby, or whether you just want the unconditional love of something. And you need to find someone to have them with. Takes two to tango!"

"My God, you're perverted pregnant." She giggles, and I steer the conversation onto baby clothes and accessories, and she doesn't bring up my own desires again.

BlaisePOV

Ginny and Hermione are all tucked up together in the armchair immediately across from us. They're intent in conversation, and Hermione looks almost wistful about something. But the conversation apparently shifts pretty soon, as Ginny Summons a scrapbook from upstairs to show Hermione, and almost immediately they're cooing over what I can only assume is something to do with babies.

"Ahhh, lookits little head!" Hermione says, stroking a picture.

"I know! It's the clearest picture so far. Next scan's in a week, then in four months it's hello baby!"

"I'll babysit any time, and I demand constant pictures!"

"Harry and I wanted to ask you something."

"What was it?" Hermione asks, absently, Summoning her bag and pulling out a bundle of pale blue wool and the first few lines of something, and commencing knitting.

"Be the baby's Godmother."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Who else? You're Harry's greatest friend, mine too if it comes to that, and you'd be a great role model." Hermione open and shuts her mouth like a stranded fish. "Harry, a miracle is occurring. I asked Hermione to be Godmother and now she can't talk. Document the moment!"

"Shut up," Hermione says, in a strangled voice. "Oh my God. Of course! With pleasure! I'd love to!"

"Good. Now, isn't this just the most darling little baby-gro you've ever seen?" It takes Hermione one or two minutes to compose herself again, but she soon resumes her knitting and looking at Ginny's scrapbook.

"What about baby names?" she queries, and Ginny turns a page. I assume it's a list of the potential baby names.

"This is all nonsense, if you agree to what we're also going to ask of you."

"You want to call the baby after me, don't you."

"Yes, Hermione, we do," Harry calls. "Only if it's a girl, of course. Hermione Molly."

"I'd be very flattered. But what if it's a boy?"

"Arthur James," Ginny says promptly. Mr Weasley's ears go bright red, and he chokes on his Butterbeer. Mrs Weasley bangs him on the back, and he continues on without acknowledgement of the revelation, which I assume is normal, as neither Harry nor Ginny look offended by it. Tea time is a much more informal affair, more of a buffet style, with sandwiches and leftovers and cake left on a big sideboard with the order that we should all help ourselves. Hermione gets a plate and positively piles it.

"You hungry?" I ask, nudging her.

"It's for me and Ginny," she says, sniffing with disdain, but I can tell she isn't really annoyed. "I'll take this over to her, come back for some drinks."

"No, you take it over and stay over, I'll bring you both something to drink."

"OK. Something non-alcoholic."

"I know, I know." She goes back over to Ginny, and they tuck a big blanket over their legs, and Hermione balances the plate on their knees. I bring them both a Butterbeer, figuring they'll want a change from pumpkin, and Ginny thanks me warmly, Summoning the table they'd been using a little closer. Unintentionally, my hand brushes Hermione's as I hand her the drink, and to my surprise, a flush of colour hints at her cheeks. She doesn't meet my eye, and for a brief moment, I dare to wonder if her stomach did the little back-flip that mine just did. Hermione might be looking intently at her roast duck sandwich, as if it had done something extraordinarily interesting a few moments before and she wanted to see if it'd do it again, but Ginny is eyeing us both very beadily, with a look of knowing amusement on her face. There is some furious whispering as I walk away, before Ginny descends into giggles and Hermione - so I assume - retreats into dignified silence.

Right before bed, I retreat outside for some air and a last snifter of Firewhiskey - something of a bedtime ritual for me. Draco's sharing a room with Bill, I'm in with George, Hermione's in with Harry and Ginny - I figure Molly did her best to make sure everyone was comfortable by asking her children who they'd be most comfortable sharing with. Percy, his wife and their small daughter are all in together, having arrived a couple of hours before we all called it a night, putting Lucy right to bed. Charlie is sharing with Ron. The kitchen door is opened, and a slant of yellow light falls across the garden. I know who it is - I can smell her perfume, strawberries and something floral.

"That's a really bad habit to have, Zabini."

"And there was me thinking you were finally going to call me Blaise."

"You do this every night?"

"Most nights."

"Probably healthier bedtime habits to have."

"Quite possibly. What are you doing out here?"

"Breath of air before bed." She shivers.

"Get over here, you silly witch, I've got a Heating Charm set up." I half expect her to refuse, tell me she'll just cast her own, but she approaches me, sits beside me on the porch swing. "That your bedtime habit then, breath of air?"

"It is now."

"Now you're off the potions and pills, you mean." She looks at me.

"At least you mention it. Harry calls it my little issue. Most people think I own a badly behaved pet." I laugh, and she puts her head on one side. She does this a lot - it's the cutest gesture I've ever seen anyone do. "You should laugh more."

"You should smile more. Six years is too long to not be showing the world your smile." She doesn't respond to that remark, and I decide to break our little silence. "Want a drink?" She considers the bottle and conjured glass.

"Go on then. One small snifter for warmth." I pour her a measure and she toys with the glass before taking a decent slug. We don't say anything very much after that, and eventually, I decide it's bedtime. Apparently she had the same idea, because she gets up at the same time, meaning we bump into each other. I take her arms to steady her, and then realise exactly how close she is. She doesn't resist when I slide my arms around her waist, and just hold her loosely at the hips, giving her the chance to back away, but she doesn't move. In fact, she rests her hands on my arms, curling her fingers very loosely around my biceps.

"I never realised how tiny you are," I murmur, and she bites her lip. I want to kiss her. I _need _to kiss her.

"Blaise, I -" Before she can tell me we shouldn't be do this, before she can say that she doesn't want me to kiss her, before she can say a damn thing, I kiss her. At first, she does nothing - she doesn't push me away, but she sure as hell doesn't kiss me back. As I make to pull away, her hands tighten on my arms, and I take it as a hint - and this time, she kisses me right back. I drag her closer, tightening my arms around her waist - and then she pulls away. "I - I -" I suppose because she can't think of anything to say, she just walks away, ignoring me calling after her.

Well.


	33. Chapter 33

GPOV

I resist the urge to start cheering, but I do execute a victorious war dance that makes Harry look at me with trepidation. I beckon him over to the window, and point to the figures on the porch. The light from the kitchen window clearly illuminates them as Blaise and Hermione. Harry's jaw drops.

"Are they kissing?"

"No, Potter, he's really a Dementor. Of course they're kissing!"

"You sound positively excited."

"I am!" He shakes his head and goes back to bed.

"Hermione wouldn't like it for you to be watching."

"We won't mention it then." I watch her start responding to his kiss, watch him drag her closer, watch her raise her arms and pull him closer as he pulls her closer - and I watch her step back. "Oh, Hermione," I mutter, darkly wishing I could open the window and yell at her to carry on kissing him. She retreats back into the house, and I stand by the window, watching him just stand still, looking after her, until I hear a creak on the stairs. I scamper into bed with Harry, who shakes his head in amusement. Hermione asks if we're all decent before wandering in and snatching up her washing things and pyjamas before once more removing herself from the room again. "Does she honestly think it's not really obvious she's been thoroughly kissed?" I hiss at Harry, who puts his glasses back on for about the fifth time.

"You are a terrible gossip. Be a dear, lie down and go to sleep. We're going to get woken up at god-knows-what hour by Lucy being all excited, might as well get some sleep while we can." Id argue the point, but a light tread on the stairs alerts us to Hermione coming back.

"Ginny, where's the broom?"

"In the cupboard there, I didn't want to put it under the tree today, everyone would get far too excited. I'll smuggle it down in the morning."

"Good. When I saw it wasn't there, I thought for a truly horrible moment you'd left it with me and I'd forgotten about it."

"And wouldn't that have been hilarious."

"Oh God, both of you go to sleep," Harry groans.

"Sorry," we apologise in unison, and Hermione crosses to her campbed and tucks herself up. I snuggle down too, and Harry switches the lights out.

HPOV

Their breathing settles down pretty quickly, but I lie awake for what seems like hours, feeling his kiss burning on my lips and remembering the serpents wriggling around in my stomach as soon as he touched me. How did this happen - and more to the point, where the hell was I while it was happening? I feel like I've barely fallen asleep when I'm woken up by a ridiculously excited Draco capering around our room with Lucy.

"Get out," Harry grumbles, from where he is an indistinguishable heap under the bedclothes. "It's too early."

"It's already five-thirty," Draco says, pouting.

"Too early!" he growls. Ginny laughs. "Lucy, why don't you come in with me and Uncle Harry? You can feel the baby kick, and we can get up in half an hour." Draco pouts even more.

"But I'm excited too!"

"You can come in with me," I say, laughing, and he jumps in, putting his cold feet on my bare legs. "Oh sweet mother of Merlin!" I screech. Lucy laughs.

"Hermione!" Harry shouts.

"He's got bloody cold feet!" I protest, and Draco laughs, cuddling down. By six, the whole house is in our room, as it's the biggest, and Harry has long since abandoned his attempts at getting a bit more sleep. Lucy begs to be allowed to open her stocking in Unca Harry's! bed, but we agree that there really isn't enough space here, so we progress to the living room, all still in our pyjamas. Bill brings me tea, and I distract everyone from Ginny smuggling Ron's broom downstairs. Lucy has to both open her gifts and then run around and show everyone her present before she opens the next one, so it takes us a good hour just to get through her stocking. By the time we're done with that, people are clamouring for breakfast, and Molly rises to the occasion magnificently, bringing out piles of buttery toast and bowls of cereal. We all tuck in and then Ginny and I go into the kitchen to help Molly put the dinner on while Lucy starts playing with some of her new things. Finally, dinner is on and we can go into the living room to open presents. Ron nearly faints when he opens his new broom, and gazes at me, Harry and Ginny as if we dropped a million Galleons into his lap. Molly thanks me with an avalanche of cuddles for her cauldron and the wool, and Ginny immediately models her boots for us. Blaise thanks me with a cordial hug for his new robe set, and overall, I think I did a good job with people's gifts. Draco goes into absolute transports over his kitten, who immediately takes a liking to him and settles on his shoulder. She's tiny, and Ginny tells him she always will be. I notice that for some reason, all my gifts have been left until last, which means all the eyes are on me. They're up to something. I can tell.

"We'll start with the first half of Draco's, as it doesn't relate," Ginny says, smirking. He brought me the dress I pointed out ages ago, the one I'll wear to the Ministry ball.

"What," I say, suspiciously, surveying them all, "have you all done?"

"OK, do we remember the order she has to open them in?" Harry asks.

"I do," Molly and Ginny say in unison. I'm handed a small package which says _Love, Bill, _on it. I untie the string holding it all together and two swimsuits fall out, one red one-piece and a green and silver bikini. I look at him narrowly and he just smiles. Ron has brought me three pretty sundresses in different colours and a sunhat and Charlie has made me a dragonhide pair of heels and sandals. I'm starting to suspect. Molly and Arthur have brought me a collection of books about rare animals around the world. Blaise has brought me a Nikon camera - and I'm a bit surprised that it's a Muggle product. Percy and Penelope have got me a handheld video camera - again, a Muggle product. George has got me shorts and shirts. There's only the other half of Draco's present and Harry and Ginny's left to go now. Draco's gift turns out to be a set of five, thick, leather-bound notebooks, each probably about 500 A5 pages. Finally, before I'm handed the last package with the envelope attached, Harry turns to me with a smile.

"We all clubbed in, so don't you dare bitch about it. Open the package first." It's a travel first aid kit. "Now you can open the envelope." I open it, and burst into ridiculous tears. They're sending me on a three-month tour of Africa. I'm going on a safari in Kenya, through the Maasai Mara; I'm going to see the gorillas in Rwanda and I'll see Egypt and Nairobi; and finish at the Victoria Fall in Zambia. "We wanted you to have a real, proper holiday, and you always talked about going to Africa as a Muggle and so we're sending you there." I gape at Harry wordlessly. "Hermione, you deserve this holiday. Don't start arguing. You drop everything for us as soon as we need you, you've done so much for all of us over the years - and we do all know that you engineered it to make Molly and Arthur a little more comfortable. There's two tickets - you can take whoever you want."

"Not me," Ginny says. "They're for July, I'll have a two-month old infant."

"And all your flights are included," Charlie chips in.

"And accommodation."

"And Kingsley says not to worry about the time off - it'll be at the end of the work year for the Ministry, and no doubt you can build enough reforms to keep them going in your absence."

"The cameras and the notebooks are for you to document the experience. We will expect a party on your return for you to show us everything you've done," Blaise inserts.

"But - but who the heck do I take?" I ask, smiling a watery smile at everyone.

"So, you'll accept it?" Molly asks, beaming at me.

"Without questioning the cost?"

"And without worrying that your gifts now make you look tight?"

"And without fretting that you'll offend someone by picking another one of us?"

"Yes, yes!" I cry, laughing. "Oh, this is fantastic! This is a dream come true, you have no idea how much this means to me. I - I - well, I don't know how to thank you all!"

"Don't," Blaise says, looking vaguely amused. "I think the fact that you actually cried with happiness says far more to us than actually saying thank you."

"I agree with Blaise," Bill pipes. "And whoever goes with her, get a picture of her in that bikini!" There's a gale of laughter in response to this, and then Molly glances at the clock and announces that she wants some help getting dinner on the table if we want to eat it before four in the afternoon. We all pitch in, and decide we should probably get dressed before we eat. I run upstairs with Ginny and we scramble into sweaters and jeans while Harry changes in Ron's room.

"Ginny," I say, grabbing her before she can dash back off again. "Thank you."

"Oh, do shut up," she says, beaming at me. "It's fine. Who are you going to take?" She's so unsubtle.

"You saw me kissing Blaise."

"Oh yes, I saw you. Who are your choices?"

"Well, Draco or Blaise I suppose. Bill."

"Pros and cons."

"Err, I guess if I take Draco there's no chance it'd descend into sex. With Bill or Blaise -"

"Aha! So you are attracted to him!"

"That only works if I'd denied I did."

"Well, you have a while to decide. Come on, we can discuss this later, we'd better get down for dinner."

BlaisePOV

She's been positively beaming ever since she got her presents. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy. She definitely deserves this - God knows, she could do with a real proper holiday, not just enforced time off work due to attempts on her life or kidnapping. She eats more than I've ever seen her eat, and Molly looks very happy about it, sneaking seconds helping of turkey and roast potatoes onto her plate, which she doesn't protest and even enjoys. She even manages two helpings of pudding, having both mandarin cheesecake and some lemon meringue pie. We end up in the armchair together after dinner, and within ten minutes, her head had fallen onto my shoulder and she's asleep. It can't be exactly comfortable, her necks all bent over. Ginny helps me rearrange her so she's leaning on me more comfortably, and she tucks a blanket around Hermione's sleeping form. Seeing as I now can't move, she also brings me a drink and gives me a knowing smirk. After dinner conversation is fairly limited, because most people are dozing in and out, sleeping off dinner and the early start. I doze off myself eventually, and when I eventually wake up, I'm lying almost full-length on the armchair that sure as hell wasn't big enough to allow it when I fell asleep, and the room is empty. There's a note on the table next to us. Carefully, so I don't disturb Hermione who is apparently still away with the fairies, I pick it up.

_We're outside making snowmen. If you and Hermione stop being adorable at any point, feel free to come join us. G._

Hermione stirs suddenly, sitting up a little before stretching and yawning.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"About an hour and a half," I murmur. She smiles a bit, and then apparently realises who she's with and how we're lying. She shoots upright, and looks down.

"Ginny," she mutters.

"Hermione," I say, catching at her wrist. "We need to talk about the fact that we kissed."

"Not here," she says, blushing.

"They're all outside. Do you regret it?" Her head snaps up and she looks me in the eye.

"No. I regret nothing. But I - I'm not sure how it happened. I need to think."

"Hermione. I want us to go out - to date, to get to know each other, to try it out, whatever you want to call it. I felt you should know that what happens about the kiss is entirely up to you." She nods, and even smiles at me.

"Alright. Come on," she says, standing up and holding her hand out to me. "Lets go make some snowmen."


	34. Chapter 34

BPOV

At the end of Boxing Day, I feel like I'm about one stone heavier than I was on Christmas Eve. Hermione seems much, much happier, laughing freely at even the smallest jokes, and with her happiness, a change in George is also visible. I'm seeing the George we used to see at school - laughing, joking, messing about making knives turn into paper aeroplanes to amuse Lucy, even though Percy seems to think that this isn't really an appropriate activity for his three year old daughter - and I have to say, I do agree with him. But it's good to see George re-adopt his care-free, don't care attitude. I wonder if he knows that, to this day, the Portable Swamp he and his twin unleashed on Hogwarts during Umbridge's reign has been preserved by Flitwick. Bet every single student is dying to meet him. People are starting to make moves towards leaving, and I stir myself to get up, and sway a little.

"You're drunk," a little voice says, and I smirk at Ginny.

"A bit."

"Well, you can't Apparate," she says, briskly. "Hermione!"

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Blaise is a little drunk. You can drive him home? It's on your way."

"I can. Draco can sit in the back with him, make sure he stays alright." She looks highly amused. We all say friendly goodbyes, and there's a lot of hugging. Everyone Hermione knows seems to be really into hugging and cheek-kissing. It's not unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Today, I respond to the hugging and the cheek-kissing, getting a bit too carried away with the enthusiasm at the new sensation when I embrace Percy fairly forcefully. Hermione rescues him, and calls Draco over.

"Thank you, everyone, for the presents, and thank you, Molly, Arthur, for having us over. New Years Day dinner at my place, I'll owl all with details!" Draco bundles me into the back of Hermione's car, and slides in beside me.

"Won't you be at the ball New Years Eve?" I demand of Hermione.

"Yes, but it's my turn this year to host New Year's Day dinner. We've gone in rotation - me, Harry and Ron. This'll be the first year I'm not drugged up to the eyeballs and seriously depressed. So we've got some work to do, Draco."

"Alright," he agrees, amiably.

"Who's your plus one for the ball?"

"Draco. Who's yours?"

"Haven't got one. Going on my lonesome."

"Poor thing," Hermione says, watching the road. I can see her smiling though.

"Maybe Hermione will dance with you," I tease.

"Hermione will dance with him if he makes it home without throwing up in her car," she retorts, but she doesn't stop smiling.

"I'm not that drunk!"

"You were molesting Percy."

"I was not."

"Not far off being accurate. Why don't you put your head down and get some sleep?" Draco suggests, and I nod.

HPOV

His soft snores soon start up, and I meet Draco's eye in the mirror.

"Don't worry," he says softly. "I've seen him drunker." I laugh, and so does he.

"Shall I worry about leaving him alone tonight?"

"No, I'll get him in alright. He will be fine."

"You make that sound almost threatening," I say, giggling.

"I don't think either of us has ever seen you so happy and contented," he says, softly.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy," she replies, very softly. "I've been living half a life - I've been so long living with drugs and depression, this is like - it's like seeing sunlight over the Artic after the months of darkness, it's like - like -"

"Like getting out of Azkaban after six years," I say.

"Like getting out of Azkaban after six years. It's not the happiest I've ever been - but I never thought I could be happy again, and knowing I can be just makes it all the more intense." Draco's kitten suddenly breaks up the tension by jumping out of his sweater neck and settling on his shoulder again.

"Hello," he says to her, and she mews softly, patting his scar with her paw.

"What are you going to name her?"

"No idea," he responds. "What do you think?" he asks her. She mews again, blinking at him slowly.

"What did she say?"

"She said she likes Meg."

"Meg. I like it." She leaps down from his shoulder and comes to me in the front. She gets up onto her back legs and props her front paws on the steering wheel, looking for all the world like she's driving the car. Draco snaps a quick picture, and she slinks over the passenger seat and curls up, mewling contentedly. "She'll make a wonderful addition to the household. Is Blaise still asleep?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well, wake him up, we're at his place. Are you sure do don't want me to Levitate him up the stairs?"

"No, I'll just shove him on his sofa. I'll be back in a minute." A very disorientated Blaise mumbles what may have been a goodbye to me, and then I'm left in the car with Meg, who's still looking at me.

"Hello, Meg." She meows. "Can you understand us?" She actually nods. "What do you think I should do?" I ask her, looking towards Blaise's front door, watching the lights come on. Meg stretches, mewls and nods. "That's what I thought too."

Draco gets in the front for the remaining journey, and Meg settles herself on his lap, and goes off to sleep. He strokes her absently.

"I wasn't going to tell you," he begins, slowly. "I was not sure if he'd want me to tell you."

"Then maybe you shouldn't."

"It's nothing explicit," he says, smiling at me. "He said your name. Just once, when I put him to bed. He said your name."

"Why would you worry about telling me that?"

"Perhaps because it might make your choice more difficult."

"My choice?"

"The choice you'll have to make about whether or not his kiss meant enough to you to make you let him through your walls and wards."

"How do you know we kissed?" I demand, resisting the urge to take my eyes off the road to glare at him.

"I saw you."

"That makes two people. Does everyone know?"

"No. Just me and Ginny. And obviously, you and Blaise."

"I will pull this car over, and so help me God, you can walk home. You can't do that, it's snowing again."

"So it is. Not much." Still, I speed up a bit. I don't want to drive in a snowstorm. For all the speed I put on, it's whirling down like a hurricane when we get back to the house. Meg vanishes down Draco's sweater, and I can see her shivering on his shoulder. We sit in the car for a moment. I Banish the contents of the car into the living room, and look at Draco.

"Ready?"

"Ready." We make a simultaneous dash for the door, dash inside, and end up lying in the hall laughing, covered in snowflakes. Meg wriggles out of his sweater, and stalks off indignantly, slipping into the living room, presumably to go explore her new domain.

"Come on," I say eventually. "Don't know about you, but I could just go for a sandwich around now."

"Ah me too." Molly sent everyone home with thick cuts of ham and turkey, and I make us both thick sandwiches. We sit on the sofa together and I switch the TV on to check the weather forecast.

"As you can see, much of England is now covered by a snowstorm, and that doesn't show any signs of lessening over the next two or three days. Residents of the South East especially can expect to be snowed in until Thursday at least, and local authorities have promised to provide care for the elderly. By New Years Eve it should have stopped snowing, but expect bitter cold that means the snow will linger, especially in rural areas, and looking at these temperatures, it's likely that there will be more snowfall after the New Year's festivities." I switch it off, and settle back with Draco.

"Remember Hogwarts at Christmas? It'd snow for weeks. Used to be amazing."

"Snowball fights and snow angels."

"Snow angels?"

"You've never made a snow angel? You poor deprived child. When it eventually stops snowing, we'll make some."

"If we're going to be snowed in, what about food?"

"I'll take care of that. I stocked up before Christmas, we can just multiply what we have. Shame food is one of the five Laws. Can't just pick it out of thin air. No, we have plenty, and plenty to drink. Tomorrow, we'll get the recipes out, see what we'll do for New Years. They'll have to Floo here if this keeps up." I check my watch. "I'm going to turn in. There's cat food in the cupboard under the sink, and food bowls."

"I might stay down here for a while."

"See you in the morning," I say, dropping a kiss onto his hair. I fall asleep pretty quickly, hearing the low buzz of voices on the TV screen.

"Hermione! Hermione, wake up!" Draco is hissing at me.

"What?" I groan, groggily.

"Hermione, I think there's somebody downstairs." I sit up properly, and listen. Sure enough, a floorboard creaks.

"Is it Meg?"

"No, she's in my bed," he whispers. I look over at the clock. 4.30.

"Stay here," I whisper to him, fiercely. "Don't move." He nods, fearfully. I take my wand from the bedside cabinet, wrap a dressing-gown firmly around myself, and head for the stairs.

DPOV

I hover fearfully at the top of the stairs. I can't hear anything, but then her voice echoes up to me, and she sounds relieved. I go down, come face-to-face with Severus Snape.

"Professor?"

"God, Snape, sneaking about at four-thirty in the morning," Hermione growls. "I thought I was going to get kidnapped again."

"Apologies for the lateness of the hour and the unannounced arrival. I have news from Hogwarts."

"What news?" Hermione asks, a trace of worry now in her tones. I feel it too - nobody arrives unannounced at four-thirty in the morning with good news.

"I'm very sorry to be the one who tells you," he says, heavily, "but Minerva is seriously unwell."

"How bad?" Hermione asks, almost mechanically.

"St Mungo's say they could stall it for another six months, but she won't give them permission. She's been ill for months - when you came, it was getting a grip on her. Cancer. She's asked to see you."

"Has Harry been told?" she demands, already flying into action.

"I'll tell him, but she insists upon seeing you first."

"He'll want to see her. Say goodbye."

"I know. Get dressed, I'll take you. We'll wait to tell Potter and Weasley." She leaves the room, and I can hear her running around upstairs. "Do you want to come?" Snape asks me.

"Will she want me to?"

"Hermione will need you there, by the end of the day. Dress. I'll pack you some food and drink, there's no guarantee you'll be able to get something."

"The end of the day?" I ask. "It'll be that - that quick?"

"Yes," he replies, shortly. I dress rapidly, leave some food out for Meg, and then Hermione is ready too, and Severus hands her a bag. She checks it's contents and nods curtly. She takes my hand in hers, and Severus puts his hand on my shoulder.

"All ready?" she questions, flat and emotionless. I recognise it, and so does Severus. She's going back onto autopilot, the default setting for her to cope. And for Hermione, that isn't a positive thing. She has to feel.


	35. Chapter 35

HPOV

I make it in time, just. At first, I think I'm already far too late, that it's already happened. Nobody I have ever seen has ever looked this ill.

"Minerva?" I whisper, frightened that she's already died. But her eyes flicker, and I immediately approach her bed.

"You came."

"You told me to, of course I did. Minerva, why didn't you say something back at Hogwarts?"

"You would have worried. You were busy."

"I would have made the time."

"I have to ask you something. Something very important."

"Anything," I say, immediately.

"Hogwarts. It will need a new Head."

"Severus can do -"

"No. He will not take it. He has consented to be acting Head, only until a 'more suitable candidate' can replace him. Besides, a lot of the parents - they wouldn't be happy with it."

"I suppose not," I admit, quietly. I have a horrible feeling that I know where this is going.

"On behalf of the Board -" she stops, panting. Her breathing is becoming more laboured. "I have been … authorised to give … you this letter … formally offering … you the post of Headmistress."

"I - I can't, I -"

"Hermione, at least … think. Not till September … everything explained … Severus can … clear up any … fine print."

"I promise I'll think about it."

"Damn … right … you … will." She even manages a ghost of a smile.

"Goodbye, Minerva," I whisper to her. I know what will happen now. This is my last chance. "Thank you, thank you for everything." She shakes her head at me. Her voice is clearer now.

"No, Hermione. Thank you for making my last years safe and happy. Thank you for who you are."

It's the last thing she ever said. I don't know if she was aware of the procession of visitors who came after that. Harry and Ginny, the Weasley's, Snape. Draco makes me eat and drink, and I don't know what I take from him and consume automatically. Finally Blaise arrives. I'm barely aware of him until he crouches down in front of me and starts rubbing my legs, just gently. It's the first thing I've actually felt happen. I feel the trembling start, and suddenly I'm shaking so violently I can hardly see. There are arms around me now, arms holding me very close, and my arms go around him without a thought.

"I'm here, Hermione. I've got you." Paying quite literally no heed to the shocked gasps around us and two identical smiles as Ginny and Draco exchange looks behind him, I seize hold of him with every particle of strength I have, hide my face in his neck, and start crying. I feel myself being lifted, those strong arms still around me, feel us move away, but I don't look up. A door clicks shut, and we sit. I'm cradled in his arms now, arms whose grip has not lessened once, holding me tighter than I've ever been held before. I press closer to him, he tightens his grips to keep me there, and I cry until I'm exhausted and just don't have the energy to continue. He must murmur some kind of spell, because suddenly I'm much fresher and the general build up that follows a good outbreak of sobs is gone. But for a long time, I don't move. I already know that she died while I was crying for her, I don't need him to tell me that. I become aware that one of his hands is now toying with my hair, stroking it gently. I look up, but he doesn't stop.

"Sorry," I mumble. I feel very, very vulnerable. I have never, ever broken like that, never mind in front of more or less everyone I know. Never has someone just held me and let me break.

"Shut up," he murmurs. "You know and I know that you needed that. There's no shame."

"I'm not ashamed. I feel vulnerable."

"I swear I won't take advantage, nor will I ever mention it again." I manage a faint smile at his casual promise. He brushes his thumb over my lips, lightly, once. The arms that were once holding me are now resting lightly along my sides, his hands tracing lazy patterns on my hips. I've very aware that at this point, I'm on his lap, legs curled up awkwardly. I stretch them out, and they feel stiff and cramped. I make no effort to move myself off his lap - instead, I lean back against his shoulder.

"I was going to hold out for a week," I murmur. "Just to make sure."

"Sure?"

"Sure of you. How I felt."

"And?"

"I don't think I need anything like a week." Almost hesitantly, he comes closer, brushes my lips with his. This kiss is not like our kiss at Christmas - was it really only three days ago? - this kiss is soft and hesitant, the kiss that heralds many more kisses. This kiss is my promise to at least try to let him in.

We agree to keep it between us and the family, just for now. It's too precious and too new for us to tell everyone yet. Minerva's funeral needs organising, and it wouldn't be right for us to start shoving something so controversial in everyone's face now, when nearly everyone in the Wizarding World is grieving. We bury her at Hogwarts, near Dumbledore's tomb, by the lake. Hundreds of guests have been invited, and they divide into classes more often than not. It's half funeral, half reunion, which is probably the way she would have liked it. I see people I haven't seen for years, and do get some stares and whispers from people I both know and don't. The funeral is brief. She was never the type for long speeches and she was never the type for long emotional farewells. So we keep it brief and formal, and Severus seals her tomb, shining marble like Dumbledore's. I excuse myself from the wake afterwards, and go up to the Head's office, still behind the stone eagle. It's already open, and I go up. There's already a portrait of Minerva on the wall. I often wonder how they keep finding the space. Minerva's letter is still in my bag, and I take it out.

"Told you she'd come up here to read it," Dumbledore says to Minerva's new portrait.

"Yes, and I told you she won't want us to be constantly trying to advise her."

"I came up here for a little privacy. Everywhere else is busy."

_Hermione,_

_By the time you read this, I'll have passed away and have asked you if you'd consider taking my job, when September comes. I'm aware that you may not want to, appearing very happy at the Ministry and doing a marvellous job there. However, Hogwarts needs you. It would make much more sense for you to be here when your newest reforms go through, so you can supervise first hand. _

_We'll understand if you don't want to take the job. But we will ask that, even if you won't take it, you personally appoint the replacement. We know you'd pick someone good. Enclosed is your formal job offer._

_Minerva. _

The official letter is just a formal job offer signed by the Board of Governors and the faculty staff, requesting that I put my response in writing by Easter.

"You're hardly playing fair, Minerva," I say, blandly. Dumbledore chuckles.

"Well?" she says, eagling me from her portrait.

"I don't know yet. I shall think about it. If, by Easter, I think the Ministry will manage without me, I'll consider it."

"Best we could hope for," Dumbledore says, cheerfully. "By the way, Miss Granger, congratulations on your new relationship. Mr Zabini is one of the few people worthy of the brightest witch Hogwarts has ever seen." And then he falls asleep. He just falls asleep. I've never wanted to punch a portrait before.

"Ah yes," Minerva says, dryly. "One of the few disadvantages of this office. Being blessed with such dazzling subtlety." I shake my head at both of them, and go downstairs. Blaise himself is leaning against the wall opposite the eagle, which this time opens to let me out. His eyes travel quickly down my body, back up to meet my eyes.

"Would this be an inappropriate setting to tell you that you look beautiful today?" I look down at myself, surprised. I'm wearing a simple Muggle dress, red for Gryffindor, which is nothing at all special, having long sleeves and a fairly long skirt, falling past my knees. "Don't look at yourself like that." I look back at him.

"Like what?"

"Like you think you aren't beautiful."

"Well - I don't think -"

"Granger, as much as it will pain you to admit, I am right in this situation." He smiles at me, and then opens his arms. I glance quickly to either side. "What? I can't even comfort you?" There's a flash of hurt in his eyes.

"Someone might see."

"I don't care." Nor do I, actually, and that's a little strange. I'm normally on edge, always obsessed by being careful what I do or say in public. But today, because it's him holding his arms open for me, I just cross the corridor and go to him. He envelopes my in his arms, one round my waist, the other round my neck. I clasp my hands behind his back and rest my head on his shoulder. I love how we fit like jigsaw pieces, my head reaching the perfect spot on his shoulder to rest there. "Gonna take the job then?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe. I'm contractually obliged to stay with the Ministry for a year, and Kingsley won't want me to leave."

"He doesn't just want you to stay, he wants you to be the next Minister for Magic."

"The crap you talk."

"It's true. He's not alone, either."

"Even if he does, that won't be for years. He's got a lot left in him." I stay in his arms for longer than it takes to be comforted, and then move away. "Come on. People are going to wonder what we're doing. We should go back separately."

"How long are you going to ask me to hide this?"

"Just until after the funeral and until people have started to move on."

"How long is that?"

"Until an appropriate amount of time has passed." He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Hermione, I know why you don't want this to get out. You don't want to go back to the days when the press were all over every aspect of your life. Do you honestly think I'd allow that to happen to us? Wouldn't it be far easier to simply announce our relationship through Luna rather than getting photographed one day in a less than 'appropriate' situation? At least then we'd have been the ones in control of it."

"We'll talk about it later, now isn't the time. No, Blaise, no. Not now."

BPOV

She's shutting off again. She refuses to talk about it, in fact refuses to address me at all, and just turns and walks away. But I'm not prepared to let her continuously do that and think it's the way to solve the problems she faces. I go after her, grab her arm, yank her into the nearest classroom.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Stop walking away from me. Stop walking away from everything. Stop putting up walls to add to those you already have. No, Granger, don't go for your wand." I pin her arms at her sides, and she glowers at me. "I want to give you a chance to learn what it means to trust people again. I'm going to do that by letting you take hits at me, because I can take them. But I'm not prepared to have a relationship in which you walk away from every disagreement. I'm not prepared to let you go without fighting. I'm going to make every conscious effort to get through all your walls and defences and sooner or later, Hermione, you're going to give in to me. And if that frightens you too much then maybe you should re-evaluate your choices."

"Generally," she hisses, "you don't threaten your partners when you want them to stick around!"

"I'm not threatening you, Hermione, I'm making you a promise." Just to prove it, and just to keep her from snapping something biting at me, I crush my lips to hers. At first, she doesn't respond, but as I'm about to pull away, she hurls herself into the kiss with force. It's her tongue that asks for entry first, she who takes over the control of our kiss. It's also her who pulls back first.

"We have to go." This time, I don't stop her leaving, instead waiting until I think five minutes have passed and then following her out. I spot her taking to a couple of the Hogwarts staff in the Great Hall and wander over to join Harry and Draco, who appear to be attempting to ignore a vaguely familiar woman. They nod at me when I join them and the woman turns to me.

"Ah, Mr Zabini, isn't it?" I know that voice. "I'm Rita Skeeter -"

"Yes, and if you don't want Hermione to see you, may I cordially suggest you remove yourself from the castle?" Harry says, in tones which suggest he's anything but cordial. I remember this woman now - during the Triwizard Tournament she seemed to take pleasure in creating absolute havoc. Hermione hated her. Rita ignores him entirely.

"Perhaps I could ask you for a statement about your feelings regarding Minerva McGonagall's tragic demise?"

"Hogwarts has lost a valuable staff member and an outstanding Headmistress."

"But your personal feelings," Rita simpers.

"I'm afraid I did not know Professor McGonagall well enough to offer personal feelings other than those I have previously stated."

"But, Mr Zabini, surely you must have a -" Suddenly, the woman goes very pale.

"Skeeter," a voice hisses from behind me. "What are you doing here?"

"I - I -"

"Get out." Hermione's voice is very dangerous now, and I have to physically restrain myself from leaping at her and kissing her. Anger sits on my Miss Granger very attractively. Draco and Harry appear to be edging away. "You heard me, Rita. Go. Your poison is not wanted here."

"Of course, Miss Granger," Rita simpers. "You have other - distractions." With that, she walks out of the hall, leaving Hermione looking murderous.

"Who let that bitch in here?" she snaps, glaring round at the three of us.

"We'll find out," Harry assures her, seizing Draco my the arm and dragging him away, clearly keen to leave before Hermione's eyes start shooting sparks.

"My God, you're fucking beautiful when you're angry," I burst out, literally unable to control myself. The glare she turns onto me would've made Voldemort wither on the spot. I scuttle after Harry and Draco as quickly as I possibly can and try and pretend she didn't frighten me off.


	36. Chapter 36

HPOV

I was so blindingly angry at seeing her at first, I barely processed what she said. It's only that night when I'm lying in bed and I've finally calmed myself down enough to stop seeing shades of red that I remember her words. What did she mean, distractions? She cannot know. My blood actually runs cold. If she knows, it'll be the _Prophet _first thing in the morning. But surely, surely she wouldn't be so stupid as to transform into that beetle and then get a scoop on me? She knows exactly what I'd do. Unless, of course, she thinks my previous threat was limited only to the one year period. Up until now, though, she has been behaving herself. She hasn't written any career-damaging or personal articles, and I assumed she took me at my word and rightly assumed it was an unlimited threat. But if Rita Skeeter has finally got over her fear of me, then I might as well call the Minister now. Oh, I would really, really enjoy prosecuting her. What could I get her for? Slander, breach of privacy, being an unregistered Animagus. How long is that in prison? Going to be a while. I fall asleep halfway through imagining getting her locked up, and my dreams are a rather confused mess of beetles and stone walls.

I shake myself awake at about nine, and decide I'd better get up. Two days until New Years Eve and the Ministry Ball. Three until I have to play hostess. Better make sure I've got some Hangover Potion, just in case I get a bit carried away at the Ball. Better get up translates into I'm going to have a read before I get up. Draco brings me a cup of tea at about half ten, and we decide it's just going to have to be a lazy day. We play board games together, watch a film and I read while he plays with Meg. If nothing else, she's spiced life up a bit. It's almost like having a baby in the house. He's trying to train her to use the kitty box instead of the cupboard under the sink. I suggest he puts her litter box under the sink, see if that helps. She's sceptical, and still insists upon going outside the box. But she seems very contrite after. I tell him that it might be the litter she's objecting to, and we'll change it tomorrow. I can't really help - Crooks was already house-trained when I brought him. He died of old age the year after Voldemort went down. It was just one more blow to me.

That evening, with nothing having appeared in either the _Daily _or _Evening Prophet, _Blaise phones to ask if he can come over before the Ball, and we could all go together. I agree to this plan perfectly happily, tell him to come over at about seven-fifteen, and then we can just leave together more or less right away. They used to have a dinner at the Ball, but now it's just cocktails and dancing, which is far nicer and much less stiff. When Draco jokingly accuses Blaise of stealing his date, I say they can both be my date. It'll be a giggle to come in with one on each arm. I finally take the phone into my own room to have a quiet word with Blaise.

"Do you remember what Rita Skeeter said, yesterday? About me having distractions?"

"Yes, I've been rather wondering about that. What did she mean?"

"I think she knows about us." He exhales sharply.

"How? We were alone up there, nobody could possibly have seen us."

"Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn into a beetle, it's how she got all those scoops during the Triwizard Tournament."

"Well, report her." He doesn't sound overly bothered.

"I can't unless she does something now. I'd just look petty and like I was hiding something."

"You are. You're hiding us." He sounds accusatory now.

"Only because it's hardly a good time to announce a relationship at a funeral. Look, Blaise. The press is going to love it when we let them find out. You don't know how it is with them. I just want something to be just mine for once, just for a while. The backlash from this will be huge, because you're you."

"A one-time suspected Death Eater dating the Gryffindor Princess - I see what you mean."

"Look, Blaise. They'd eat you alive. They'd go for me too, and I won't go through that again."

"I told you already, I won't let them do anything like that to you. Ever. I'll protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me," I snap, and instantly regret doing so. "Sorry."

"I know you don't need me to," he says, calmly. "But it doesn't mean I'm not going to anyway."

"Thank you," I mumble. I figure he hears me, because he laughs softly.

"I promise I'll never tell anyone you said that."

"Good. Anyway. I'll see you in a couple of days?"

"What if I decide I can't wait two days to see you?" Now he's just teasing.

"You'll just have to bide your time. It'll make it all the sweeter when you do see me."

"Fine."

"Are you sulking?"

"No."

"Goodbye, Blaise. I'll see you soon."

"You better." I laugh and hang up on the pouting, go back downstairs to join Draco.

"I'm glad you've come to see that he's a good person," he says, quietly, not looking up from the toy he's dangling for Meg to bat at. "You deserve happiness." I give his head a light shove.

"I'm glad too."

"Is he going to stay after the Ball? I mean, he'll just be coming back here on New Years Day for dinner - may as well stay." I narrow my eyes at him. "I can feel the glare you've got focused on me, Granger."

"If he wants to. The sofa is always available."

"Stop beating around the tree."

"Beating around the _bush,_ Draco, not beating around the tree."

"I don't care which item of natural growth it is, stop beating around it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know very well what I mean. Will he come and stay with you, as in, will he be in your bedroom?"

"Jesus Christ, Draco, we've not been together a week yet." He shrugs.

"Fred and I weren't together an hour before we had sex." I glare at him again.

"Yes," I say, tartly. "Because you and Fred were hormonal teenagers."

"True. I'm just saying, he could still stay the night."

"Can we please stop discussing this? I can't possibly say what will happen."

"So it might happen?"

"I swear, if you carry on, you're sleeping in the goddamn garden for New Year."

"You're so mean to me."

"I'm mean to everyone, it's when I'm nice you have to start worrying. Oh, and by the way, there is someone I rather want you to meet at the this Ball." it's his turn to narrow his eyes.

"Are you trying to match-make?"

"Certainly not. I just want you to met him, is all."

"Oh yes," he says, properly suspicious now. Meg has given up trying to get his attention, and is batting a ball from side to side. "And what is his name?"

"Tom."

"And who is he."

"He works in Law Enforcement. He's _very_ handsome."

"Hermione," he says, rubbing his hands over his face and looking exasperated, "does he definitely bat for my team? Because it wouldn't be the first time I've been introduced to someone 'very handsome' who turns out to be straight. Blaise tried it at Hogwarts."

"Who with?"

"Dean Thomas." I snort tea through my nose.

"Ha!"

"Yes, yes, very funny."

"Tom is definitely gay. He's 26, couple of years on us."

"Hmm, yeah, maybe, whatever." I giggle.

"Alright. Just meet him."

"He probably doesn't want to meet me. Most people still think I'm Voldemort's best pal."

"Tom won't mind." I try and sound casual, but apparently this doesn't help me.

"He won't _mind_? Have you already _asked_ him?"

"Um. No."

"Oh, sweet Merlin. You have. What kind of desperate loser is he going to think me?"

"He asked me, actually."

DPOV

She picks up a magazine, but eyeballs me over the top of it.

"You lie."

"Excuse me, but I do not."

"When did he ask you?" I demand, whipping the magazine out of her hands and sitting on it so she can't take it back. She sighs.

"While back. In between being poisoned and being abducted. Said he'd noticed you around."

"Pffft. No he didn't. Before you got abducted, I was the most hated free man in Britain."

"Not everyone hated you," she says, softly. "He believed us both. So did Andy from the lifts." I remember the man who said he didn't hate me that day. It must have been him. "And Liz from Accounting, Danny from Records, Amy from HR. Luna thought you were innocent." I refrain from pointing out that Luna Lovegood is off her rocker and also believes in Rumple-Horned Snickels or something on those lines. "So, he came to see me. Very edgy he was too. Took me ages to worm it out of him."

"What did he say?"

"Curious, are we? Well, I'm not sure I should tell you? You made it quite clear you weren't hugely interested a moment ago."

"Tell," I order, "or I'll call Blaise when you're in the bath and you can't do anything, and tell him you want him to tie you to your bed with his old school tie and do all sorts of naughty things together."

"You've put a disturbing amount of thought into that."

"Just tell me."

"Alright, alright. He asked me if you were batting for his team."

"You already knew by then?"

"It's not exactly unobvious. So, I said you were but obviously I couldn't comment, and he sort of hinted that he was interested. Said he liked the pale and brooding type."

"I'm not brooding."

"You are in repose, dearest. You don't smile much."

"I smile a lot."

"Yes, when you're thinking about stuff or talking. When you're not talking or interacting with someone, when you're just sort of being, you do look quite broody."

"Huh."

"The point is, is that he finds you attractive. And I promised I'd introduce you. But no pressure. If you don't want to meet him, you don't have to, and if you do meet him and you don't like him, you don't have to take it anywhere." I throw up my hands in semi-despair.

"Alright. Fine. You can introduce us. Now for pity's sake, what are we doing tomorrow?"

"Well, I have a hair appointment. Muggle woman, coming here, going to style me for the Ball. She's coming at three. She says she's perfectly happy to cut your hair first."

"Um."

"Don't worry. It'll be fine. I told her you'd been in an asylum for the past six years and it's been a while since you had a proper haircut."

"You told her I'd been in an asylum?" I shriek at her.

"Well, you're going to be twitchy as hell when she comes at you with scissors. Had to tell her something."

"Sweet Lord."

"She's doing my make-up too. Because I'm lazy."

"You're not going suggest she puts make-up on me?"

"No, dear. Unless, of course, you'd like to wear some."

"No, thanks. Is she also going to shave your legs and do your nails and whatever the heck else it is you girls do to beautify themselves these days?"

"She is doing my nails," Hermione says, brightly. "That's why she's coming so early. But I'm doing my own de-hairing."

"Well, don't spend hours in the bathroom. I want a bath before we go dancing too."

"Hmm, yeah, whatever."


	37. Chapter 37

DPOV

The Muggle beauty woman has been here for _hours._ She did Hermione's nails first, and then while they were drying, she washed, treated and cut my hair, leaving it fairly long, long enough to push back, but falls back over my brow in a straight fringe that sort of falls onto one side. Both she and Hermione swear it makes me look dashing. This woman is one of the biggest ladies I've ever seen. She's tall and wide, with an enormous bosom that just looks incredibly soft. She has very glossy black skin and very long, shining cornrow dreads. She has a very, very loud, booming laugh, which matches her loud, booming, bubbling voice. Hermione clearly knows her, and so far, a good half an hour has been spent talking about how much better Hermione looks.

"You don't suit skinny! You should have hips and a bosom and soft legs and flesh on your bones! Hips are good for children!"

"Bloody hell, Mary, I've only just got a partner!"

"You've got a partner?"

"Yes, God, yes. Blimey."

"There was a time," shouts Mary, yanking at Hermione's hair to get all the conditioner out, "that you would have phoned and told me that! Even at your lowest, when you were all eyes and dark circles and suicidal, you'd phone and tell me stuff!"

"Good God, it only happened three flaming days ago!"

"Alright, sit in this chair." Hermione submits to a rather rough towelling of the head and then some brisk brushing. If Mary hurts her, she doesn't protest. "And you haven't been taking good care of all this hair!"

"That's why I called you."

"This man, is he coming to this event?"

"Yes, and no, you won't meet him, he's not getting here until after you're gone."

"Oh, fine! Deprive me of my gossip!"

"Deprive you of your gossip my rear end. I know full damn well your daughter wants to go to a kibbutz in Israel with that hippy guitarist bloke she met at some berry picking meet! If that isn't enough to keep you going, what the heck is?" Mary is trimming away at top speed, and laughs her booming laugh.

"Oh, darling, I know! I know! Running off with some skinny white boy - nothing wrong with white boys, it's just the skinny ones! Those ones you see with the fringes and the skinny jeans! Broken her grandfather's heart! Wouldn't be so bad if he had a job! But he busks on bloody Bond Street underground station! Can't even sing that well! Are you having this up or down?"

"Well, the dress is strapless. I was thinking down, do that clever thing you do that makes my hair wavy instead of curly, with those flowers woven in?"

"Good idea! You know my son got a conditional offer from York University? Just got to get his grades!"

"That's great! Which son?" Hermione asks. I'm genuinely enjoying listening to them both natter on and on.

"My second oldest! Oldest boy is working at a bank in the City! Brought me a cruise for my birthday, to the Caribbean."

"Alright for some." Mary is now blow-drying Hermione's hair, brushing it out so it falls in soft waves down her neck. She's weaving in flowers at top speed, making then actually keep up the top part of Hermione's hair so it's back off her face and then tumbling down her back. It's the first time I've seen her hair down in quite a while, and it flows to the middle of her back now, a far cry from her frizzy school days. Mary finishes with Hermione's nails, hair and make up at six forty-five, and Hermione retreats up to her room to put the dress I got for her on, after paying Mary an amount she refuses to discuss, advising me to get into the tuxedo she hired for me. She says that wearing a tux as opposed to stiffly formal dress robes will make me nicely distinguished, ignoring my protests that I get quite enough attention as it is.

"Don't worry, I spoke to Blaise, he's wearing one too." I roll my eyes, but oblige anyway, and am ready way before she is, just as Blaise knocks at her front door. I let him in, and we try to sit on the sofa without creasing our shirts too much. I have no idea what she's doing up there, but she can't only be getting dressed, it's taking far too long.

"Do you want something to drink? We've got Coke, water, wine -"

"Coke?"

"Fizzy."

"I'll try that." I get us both a Coke, something Hermione introduced me to last week, and we wait, patiently, for Hermione to do whatever it is she's doing. At exactly seven-thirty five, she comes downstairs, fashionably late, and probably prepared to make one hell of an entrance at the Ministry.

BPOV

I have to all but scrape my jaw up off her coffee table when she makes her appearance. The dress Draco brought her suits her very exactly, and it's now obvious why we're both wearing forest-green bow ties. Her gown is tight to the waist, and has been cut to give soft curves to a figure that's still very slightly too thin, and the full skirt has been sprinkled with tiny sparkles that catch the flames from her little fireplace and make the dress look like it's always being ruffled by a very slight breeze. She looks absolutely incredible. Draco mumbles something and slips upstairs, and she starts blushing under my gaze.

"Do you - am I - is this OK?"

"Oh, that is far, far beyond OK. You look stunning." I cross to her, and place a very tender kiss onto her lips. She smiles under my touch, and I don't think I've ever enjoyed kissing anyone this much. "My one objection is that I get the feeling I'll get very, very jealous tonight. They're not going to be able to stop staring at you."

"Thanks," she murmurs, kissing me fleetingly. "We need to be getting on. Draco, we need to make a move! There's a difference between fashionably late and rude."

The irritating bit about this damn Ball is that, apparently, you get announced on arrival, so we can't all enter together. I have to go in alone, looking like a proper loser, and immediately attempt to avoid the hawk-like gazes by locating Harry and Ginny.

"Potter, Ginny, watch those doors," I say, grinning.

"Announcing the arrival of Miss Hermione Granger and her guest, Mr Draco Malfoy." The sound of about one hundred male jaws falling to the floor is almost tangible. And if I thought she looked stunning in the living room of her home, she looks ten times as beautiful descending a torch-lined flight of stairs with a handsome young man on her arm. I nearly implode.

"I see Mary was over again," Ginny comments, greeting Hermione with a kiss and a giggle. "You look absolutely stunning. Half the people in this room are still staring at you."

"You don't look bad yourself. I love this dress!"

"Harry got it for me."

"Really?"

"You know, every once in a while, I do make good choices in the clothes department." The girls both giggle.

"Come on, Hermione. We'd better do the duty round. Boys, get Hermione something alcoholic and me something soft." She and Hermione start revolving around the room, joined by Kingsley. Most people here seem very keen to meet the war hero behind the radical changes to the Wizarding World, and Ginny herself attracts so much attention as well, presumably because it's finally been announced that she's pregnant. It's starting to show too - and oddly, seems much more obvious tonight than it did at Christmas. I suppose that's just the way.

"Why is everyone still staring at Hermione?"

"Jealous, are we?" Harry smirks. "Because she's a stunningly beautiful war hero who has the balls to keep her scars on show and who is also overhauling half our laws. And apparently is still single. You two really need to announce it."

"I want her to. I wanted us to shout it from the rooftops. But she keeps saying it's still too soon after Professor McGonagall's funeral. Say's it'll be insensitive."

"I say announce it tonight. What better time?"

"I might ask her when she's finished the rounds." I stop a passing waiter and nab us both a glass of champagne. "Or, I'll just go offer her this."

"No," Draco says, "that'll look odd. I'll take it to her." He takes both glasses out my hands, sips one himself, and almost glides over to Hermione, who is currently talking to an irritatingly handsome wizard who looks vaguely familiar.

"Potter, do we know the man Hermione's talking to?"

"Cormac McLaggen."

"That jumped-up keeper you had in sixth year when Weasley got poisoned?"

"Yep. He and Hermione went to Slughorn's Christmas party together." I feel like I've just swallowed a pint of vinegar. "Oh, don't worry. She never did like him much. But he works in the Sports department now, I suppose she's got to show some sort of interest."

"It's not how she feels about him I'm concerned about," I growl. "It's the fact that he keeps touching her bloody arm and stroking her elbow. And the fact that if he doesn't get his hands off my woman, I'll go over there and punch him in the face." Mercifully for him, Draco reaches them, leans over and kisses Hermione's cheek. McLaggen looks like he's been slapped in the face. Hermione looks nothing but relieved, taking the champagne from Draco and then slipping her arm into his.

"You don't mind Draco touching her," Potter comments.

"Potter, the last person in this room who'd do anything inappropriate is Draco."

"Why?"

"Good Lord. Draco's _gay, _Potter. He'd be more interested in seeing you naked than her. Not that he wants to see you naked."

"Oh!" Hermione, Ginny and Draco all rejoin us, and Hermione looks right at me,

"I'm so sorry. I couldn't get rid of him."

"I know. But I might still have to bury him in a shallow grave." She laughs. "I've been thinking," I venture. "We should announce it."

"I suggested tonight. Hermione, it makes sense. And it'll stop Zabini getting arrested for murder, because you know McLaggen will have another go at putting the moves on." I grit my teeth at that, and Potter laughs.

"Alright. You have a point. But how do we announce it?"

"Now?"

"Might as well," she shrugs, blushing.

"We do this," I say, taking her glass and handing it to Potter. I sweep her into my arms, she shrieks, and then I kiss her. Shocked gasps and an immediate upsurge in the noise tells me that everyone has either seen or has been nudged and told. I can hear Ginny laughing. Hermione loops her arms very firmly around my neck and returns my kiss in kind. When we eventually put each other down, every single person is gaping at us. The reporters are now immediately identifiable, as they all have notebooks out and are scribbling away furiously. I think a couple of flashbulbs might have gone off. We'll be front page news.

"That was not, in any way, subtle," she says, half scolding.

"Are you annoyed?" I ask her, grinning widely.

"Not in the slightest." I kiss her again, but apparently we're old news now, because at least not everyone is staring. Apart from McLaggen, who's holding a broken glass in his hand and is looking like he would have preferred a good punching to this. Ginny is almost purple in the face with the effort to not just howl with laughter.

"I was thinking more along the lines of making a brief announcement to the press when one of them comes to talk to you during the dancing, but I suppose your way works just as well," Potter says, laughing. Before any of us can discuss it any further, Hermione apparently spots someone else she knows.

"Oh, Draco, would you mind coming over here with me?" And she accuses me of lacking subtlety. She drags him off.

HPOV

Still somewhat flustered by Blaise, I spot Tom leaning against the far wall, looking depressingly lonely. I grab Draco, insist he joins me, and migrate across the floor, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with anyone, although whispers follow us.

"Tom, darling, how are you?" I ask, kissing his cheek. We go way back, he and I. We were actually on the same ward at St Mungo's after the War, when I went in to have an infection in one of Fenir's claw scars treated. His own scars were self-inflicted, and one of them had become infected. He almost blamed himself after I tried to kill myself, convinced meeting him had somehow given me the idea of how to do it. It had been a while since we really spoke when he came to see me about Draco, and we got a lot cleared up between us.

"I'm fine. No need to ask how you are. I suppose you know that little stunt will be smothered all over the _Prophet _tomorrow."

"Shut up, it was hardly my idea."

"I didn't think so," he says, grinning. "Uh - I'm Tom." He addresses Draco, and I resist the urge to just spin around and wander off.

"Draco," he says, holding out a hand, actually blushing a little. Tom takes the proffered hand, shakes it. Having experienced Tom's handshakes, I know they're strong and somehow convey dependency. Draco's blush deepens. Tom has not yet let go of his hand, and he is lingering on the pull back. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Draco offers more information. "I work in Hermione's department. I'm her - what am I?"

"Assigned bitch," I say, inspecting my nails and smiling.

"That about sums it up. I was assigned after they decided I wasn't a murderer." I resist the urge to face palm, but Tom seems to appreciate his rather brutal honesty.

"I never thought you were a murderer."

"Thank you." I decide this would be a good idea to leave them to it, but then the Minister announces that the dancing is about to start, and we should make our way into the Ballroom. Tom excuses himself, but asks Draco if he can come find him later. Blushing wildly, Draco says that he'd like that. Tom seems to melt into the crowd, and Draco just gapes after him.

"So?" I ask, barely able to control myself. We're almost alone in here now, and I want the details now.

"He seems - nice." He'd only just returned to normal colour, and he's blushing again.

"Will you dance with him?"

"Maybe."

"OK. Come on, lets go find Harry and the gang."


	38. Chapter 38

HPOV

He's hovering. Which is quite impressive, seeing as we're meant to be dancing together. After he treads on my toes for the third time, I roll my eyes and can't help saying something.

"Draco, I know Tom. He will come find you. But for now, can we just dance?"

"But it's been four dances already!"

"Yes, I know. And I hope he comes soon. Not least because you've trodden on my toes three times now. Please stop worrying."

"What if people look at us dancing and they don't approve?"

"Approve of which aspect?"

"Two blokes. One being an acquitted Death Eater. Who they all think is an actual Death Eater."

"Come on, Draco. If they can handle me snogging Blaise, they can handle you dancing with another man. And if anyone does give you grief, Tom is a very persuasive, charismatic man. I've no doubt he'd be able to deal with it."

"I wonder if he ever wonders about sharing a name with the Dark Lord."

"Not that many people knew Voldemort's real name, you know. And I honestly don't think it bothers him. I'm not sure if he even knows. That isn't one to bring up."

"Oh, God, what if I say the wrong thing? When I'm dancing with him? If he even shows up!"

"OK, that's it. I can't listen to this. I'm going to dance with Blaise for a bit. Keep Ginny company." I lead him off the dance floor and sit him with Harry and Ginny, who are taking a little break. I tell Ginny to keep an eye on him and when a tall, dark, dashing man with blue eyes comes along, to shove him into the arms of said tall, dark, dashing man. Ginny laughs and agrees, and I turn to my own tall, dark, dashing man. He whirls me off to the centre of the dance floor, but makes sure we can still see the table where Draco is lurking.

"You are shameless," Blaise murmurs, pulling me close and whispering in my ear. A delicious shiver runs down my spine and he only aggravates the situation when he cups my shoulder in one hand, placing his other firmly in the small of my back. We're not so much dancing as just swaying together. "Oh-oh. Is that him?" He turns me around, and I stand on tiptoe to peek over his shoulder.

"It is! Oh, they're talking! Oh for God's sake, he's blushing again!" I tut, exasperated.

"Blushing is good, it show's he likes him." We revolve again, both taking turns to look at the interaction going on by the table. "I so want to know what they're saying," he mutters.

"We can bother it out of him tonight."

"Tonight?"

"If you come and stay."

"Stay where?" There's a very obvious challenge in his voice.

"Somewhere in my house. Exactly where, of course, entirely depends on how you behave. If you're a good boy, the sofa. If you're a bad boy, I suppose we could upgrade you."

"So, Granger, you like bad boys?" His mouth is very close to my ear now, and we're very close to each other. This isn't so much dancing as foreplay.

"You have no idea. Oh, they're coming onto the dance floor!"

"Really?" His head snaps up, and we watch them find a little spot and spend a few seconds awkwardly arranging their hands. Draco ends up as the woman in that little dance.

"Do you think he bottoms?" I ask Blaise, who screws his face up.

"I really don't want to imagine one of my closest friends having _any_ sex, never mind which position he'd be in." I laugh, and rest my head on his shoulder. But we're not allowed to just dance in silence for very long. A reporter materializes.

"Uh, Miss Granger, Mr Zabini? Could I perhaps ask you some questions?" Blaise sighs, and has to release me from his beautifully warm hands. I consider hexing the reporter and just leaping back into his arms.

"If you're quick."

"I'm Lily, from the _Daily Prophet. _Can I ask when you became a couple?"

"The day Minerva McGonagall died. He was there at a time I really needed comfort, and it made me realise how much I valued him."

"And why did you keep it a secret until tonight?"

"We didn't think it appropriate to announce our relationship at a funeral. We thought tonight a more fitting setting. And now we can openly spend midnight together, celebrating the New Year." He smiles at the reporter, who smiles right back at him.

"How lovely! Do you hope there will be many more New Year's together?"

"I think it's a bit early on to comment on the future."

"I agree. I think it's just about taking things one day at a time for now, and seeing where it could lead us." He's nothing if he isn't charming. The reporter thanks us warmly, and melts unobtrusively back into the crowd.

"That's the _Prophet_ down. Who else is here?"

"_Witch Weekly,_ I think there's someone here from the American press. Oh, and Lovegood from _The Quibbler _is here too." he says. Over the course of the night, we give a brief statement to those three, and agree to let a photographer take a series of photographs. A couple of which are very coupley. Oh well. A picture is worth a thousand words, and news has been slow. I wonder how much coverage we'll get. I have a dance with Kingsley, a dance with Harry, and finally have to sit down, feeling champagne fizzing in my veins and more than a little giggly.

"Hey, sweetie-pie," I say, plonking myself down next to Ginny.

"Sweetie-pie," she snorts. "How many glasses of adult beverage have you consumed?"

"Five? Six? Maybe more."

"Drunk," she says, clearly amused.

"I am not drunk. I am pleasantly tipsy. And contemplating letting Blaise come home with me."

"Oh yes?"

"Good God, don't say it like that. I'm not sure yet."

"Finally going to have some meaningful sex?"

"Perhaps. D'you think it might be too soon?"

"I slept with Harry two days into our relationship," she says, shrugging. "You can sleep with him whenever you want, as long as you feel comfortable and you both want to. It's entirely up to you how soon you have sex with him."

"Hmm. Where have they gone, anyway?"

"Well, Blaise and Harry have gone to get us some nibbles. And I do believe that that is Draco and Tim -"

"Tom."

"Draco and Tom sneaking out of the Ballroom over there." We exchange glances. "It would be extremely nosy to follow them, Hermione. Leave them to it. Even if I'm bursting to know what they're going to be doing in whatever hidey hole they find."

DPOV

I suppose I shouldn't have had those three glasses of champagne while I was waiting for him to put in an appearance. As he leads me off the dance floor, towards a door leading out, I trip a little.

"Whoops," he says, laughing, holding onto my hand a little tighter. "Come on, let's get some air. I know a spot." He leads me out of a door, across a deserted hallway, and through a door that I think, briefly, is a broom cupboard. But he casts a muttered _Lumos _and I can see a flight of dusty stairs leading up.

"Where are we going?"

"Up." He drags me on, further and further, getting higher and higher.

"Feels like going up the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower," I say, laughing. He chuckles.

"Merlin, the amount of Astronomy classes I skived off because I was too damn tired for all those stairs."

"I don't remember you at Hogwarts."

"I was a couple of years above you. I remember _you_, though."

"Really?" I ask, a little breathless.

"Nearly there! Yeah, I remember your Sorting. Skinny little blonde kid, full of arrogant confidence."

"Oh, you got that right."

"I was in Ravenclaw."

"Probably explains why I didn't know you."

"Likely," he says, laughing again. I decide I really rather like his laugh. "Alright." We stop climbing, and in the light of his wand-tip, I can see a second door, as nondescript as the first. He pushes, and it swings open very easily, almost as if it's been so long forgotten, it's never needed to be locked. We're standing behind some material.

"Where are we?" I ask, confused.

"Above the Ballroom. You know all the drapes and tapestries at the very top? We're behind one of them. I reckon, years ago, it was some kind of Muggle theatre, and we're in what used to be the boxes. Look," he says, gesturing towards a small hole. I apply my eye, and can see the whole Ballroom. We must be very high up, everyone looks tiny. But I can see Hermione and Ginny - her glittering skirt, and Ginny's distinctive hair are visible even from up here. Suddenly, I'm aware of a warmth behind me, a flutter of breath on the back of my neck, ruffling my newly-cut hair. "It must be nearly midnight. The Minister's about to make a speech."

"Does he always do that?"

"Every year. We could go back down, I reckon we'd be there in time for the countdown."

"I need a bit of a rest first," I murmur, hoping I've read his statement right. "You could go -"

"You might get hurt going down those stairs in the dark. Let's stay here. For a bit." We can hear Kingsley from up here, but I'm not really paying that much attention. Tom smells tantalisingly good, and I'm very aware that he's very close to me. It's very distracting. I hope Kingsley doesn't have anything very important to say. Suddenly, warm hands are on my hips, pulling me back into a very solid chest. "You know, when I asked Hermione to introduce us, I thought it might be a little awkward, a little strange - that maybe we could make it worth a chance, but it'd take some work. But it's so easy with you."

"Not every day I hear that."

"No, I don't suppose you do." Am I mistaken, hearing things, or is there some sadness in his reply? Suddenly, a shouted countdown begins. A clock booms out midnight. I imagine Blaise has just swept Hermione off her feet and into a kiss, that Harry has done the same with his wife. "New Year."

"New Year," I echo, lamely. I have no idea what to say. I have a very definite idea about what I'd like to _do. _I'd like to kiss him. And on a whim, I turn around in his arms, and take the initiative. He's taller than me, and I have to reach up to kiss him. I make it soft, but lingering. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't respond either. I pull away. "Sorry," I mutter, feeling myself blush. All I fucking do is blush around this man. What a loser he must think me. "I just -" But before I can complete my sentence, he's cupped my face in his hands, and has bent his head to mine, placing a searing kiss onto my lips. I slide on hand around the back on his neck, the other around his waist under his dress robes, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt, and let him deepen our kiss. There are very strong hands under my jacket, caressing my back through my shirt, pulling me ever closer. After what seems a very short amount of time, he breaks away, rests his forehead on mine.

"I never kiss on the first date," he mutters, his chest heaving under my hands.

"A 'date' implies some degree of forward planning and a request from one person to the other."

"True. You're something else."

"Thanks," I say, letting him yank me into a hug. We stay like that for a long time, and then, as if she were right outside the door, Hermione's voice filters into my head.

"Where is he, do you suppose?" I jump fairly badly.

"Don't worry. There's a vent there, and it comes out directly below us." He's whispering now, mouth very close to my ear. A delighted shudder goes through me. It isn't fair that he should do this to me, when I barely know him. "If you talk under it, it sounds like they're on the stairs."

"I don't want to go," I whisper back, nuzzling his neck gently. His intake of breath is encouragement enough. If he's going to drive me mad, I'm damn well going to return the favour in kind, and tease him right back.

"I don't want you to go, but I think you have to. Merlin, Draco, you have to stop doing that," he hisses the last, and I smile against his pulse, continuing to tease his earlobe. Something hard and insistent is nudging against my leg, and I shift a little closer, standing on tiptoe, brushing against him. He actually growls, and seizes my hips in an almost bruising grip. I have to actually bite my lips to stop myself outright moaning. "Draco. If we had more time and if I was less - controlled - you'd be up against that door right now."

"Promise?"

"We have got to go." He does pull away this time, but doesn't release my hand, instead pulling me back towards the stairs. Before we leave, he edges the door open, then yanks me out into a still deserted corridor. "I'll owl you. Will you reply?"

"I might," I say, casually.

"Not might," he growls. "Say you will." I smile at him. I like this side.

"I will."

"Good." He kisses me goodbye, and then Disapparates. I don't have time to miss him, because Blaise, Hermione, Harry and Ginny all emerge into the corridor not a second later.

"Draco, there you are!" A very flushed Hermione hurries over to me, looking just slightly unsteady. "Where have you been, you missed midnight! And why are you all dusty?" She doesn't wait for my answer, just brushes me down quite vigorously.

"Are you drunk?" I ask her, quite amused.

"No!"

"She's just feeling a little festive," chuckles Blaise.

"Come on," I tell her, linking her free hand through my arm. "Let's get you home and get you into bed." We all say goodbye to Harry and Ginny, who are going to walk to wherever Harry parked his car, considering Ginny. The cold blast of air as we Apparate to Hermione's front gate seems to go a fair way to sobering her up. I excuse myself the moment we've got her up the stairs, pointing out her room to Blaise, and shutting myself in my own room to leave them to it. I can't help but remember the last time I dreamt of Fred, when he told me I'd find happiness in the least likely place. Was that what he meant? Finding someone at the Ministry, where everyone apparently hates me? I refuse to let myself delve into it too deeply. I wonder instead what is happening down the hall, with Hermione and Blaise. I smile at the thought, and just hope if they do get carried away, they remember what Silencing Charms are for.


	39. Chapter 39

BPOV

I could have cheerfully throttled Draco when he vanished into his own room, leaving me to deal with Hermione. She takes me by the hand and leads me into her room, letting go by the door, shutting it, and then sitting with her back to me at her mirror, and beginning to take the flowers out of her hair. I cross to her, and nudge her hands away, doing it myself. She sighs happily, letting me find the pins keeping them in place and untangle them gently. When she's flower-free, she stands up very quickly, kicking her heels off, and turning her back to me.

"Unzip me, will you?" she asks, as casually as one would ask for a cup of coffee, sweeping her hair to one side. It takes me a minute or two to even _find_ her damn zip, hidden as it is in the dress's design so it's not too obvious. Finally, when I eventually locate it, I'm aware of exactly how far down the thing goes - and that she is not wearing a bra underneath. She really doesn't seem too bothered by this, and steps out of it, leaving her in her panties and tights and nothing else - and even the tights don't last long, as she wads those up and throws them at her laundry basket - with surprisingly good aim, for someone who's had at least eight glasses of champagne. I start turning around, but she laughs at me. "Don't be such a prude."

"I'm not being a prude. I'm trying to protect your modesty. You're drunk."

"I'm not that drunk." And true, she doesn't seem to be more than slightly merry.

"Still. You might not like to think I saw you naked come morning."

"I'm dressed now." I turn back round, and am confronted by one of the sexiest sights I've ever seen. She's taken off her make-up, tied her hair back into a low ponytail, and is wearing an oversized T-shirt and nothing else. Well, I'm assuming she at least has pants on, but that shirt comes down to mid-thigh and I can't tell. "Are you staying?"

"If it's alright with you."

"I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't."

"So, um, where do you keep the blankets?"

"Blankets?"

"Yeah - for the sofa, like -"

"Oh." And she looks all hurt and upset and I realise immediately that I've made a mistake, that instead of offering to save her from feeling compelled to share her bed with me, she's got the impression I'd rather sleep on the sofa.

"Unless, of course, your blankets are all in need of a wash, and as a good hostess, you wouldn't dream of making me sleep under them."

"I wouldn't. But, you know, these sheets were clean on yesterday…"

"In you get then, Granger."

"Only if you'll tuck me up." So I do. And we cuddle together, sleepily, and I kiss the tip of her nose when we say goodnight and that makes her giggle.

It's the best nights sleep I've had in a very long time, and when I wake up in the morning, I'm aware of two things - one, I'm not at home, and two, I've got a face full of honey-coloured curls. I prop myself up on one elbow, and look down at her with a smile. She's lying on her front, facing away from me, and she's making a little noise that sounds almost like purring. I wonder for a while what made me wake up, but I'm not sure I really care. Her clock reads seven. I snuggle back down, and for a minute, she doesn't move. But the next thing I know, she's sort of started awake, has raised herself up a little, then lies back down and turns over. She blinks a bit.

"You stayed," she breathes.

"You wanted me to."

"I thought you might get some upper-class notions about being a gentleman and taking advantage while I was - impaired - and go and sleep on the sofa after I dozed off."

"Never even entered my head. You have an uncommonly comfortable bed."

"Nothing to do with me being half-naked then?" she asks, eyes twinkling.

"Can't say I'd noticed." I run a hand up her thigh, stopping at her hip, where I discover she is wearing pants. "So you are." She giggles, and snuggles into me. I roll onto my back so she can rest on my chest.

"I don't remember you taking your clothes off."

"No, well. You were a little worse for wear. How's your head?"

"Absolutely fine. And says you - you were getting a bit giddy around midnight."

"I was not giddy," I protest.

"Yes, you were. Everything was hilarious. Even when Ginny sent that sneaky hex at that reporter from the American press when he tried to get that shot of her coming out the loo and she missed and got Lucy from the Sports department and she sprouted feelers, you thought it was the single funniest thing ever."

"It was pretty funny."

"Poor Lucy was horrified."

"It was more the look on Ginny's face when she realised she'd missed." She relents teasing, and just starts tracing lazy patterns on my stomach instead.

"You're in better condition than me." I'm not sure what she means.

"You mean scar-wise?"

"Scar-wise, but I mean you look healthier. I'm still so thin, too thin, still suffering the consequences of six years of abusing drugs." She's so frank about it all.

"That something your therapist advises? Be honest about the drugs?"

"No, that's just me. You don't _mind, do you Blaise?"_

"_Mind what?"_

"_That I'm such a fucked-up mess?" She sounds very sad. I roll her onto her back, and prop myself on my elbow next to her. _

"_Look at me, Hermione. I'd help you fight anything and everything. You're not that much of a mess. You're alive and you're laughing, which is half the damn fight. And those problems that you do still have - and lets not pretend you aren't still very vulnerable - we can get through them, together." She bites her lip. _

"_Blaise - I don't know what you expect from me - from this."_

"_Hermione, I've made it clear, I think, how I've come to feel about you. So we'll take this at your pace. If you think I'm moving too fast, just stop me." Suddenly, she's struggling out of her T-shirt. "Hermione -"_

"_Look," she says, lying in front of me, wearing only her pants. I feel myself harden instantly, and hope she doesn't notice. I get the feeling it isn't quite an appropriate forum. She runs her fingers over three scars, which I'm realising only now are the same three scars that are also on her face and neck. "Fenir Greyback, and this is what the Cruciatus curse does when cast silently, when the caster is Silenced. That was Rodolphus Lestrange, fifth year in the Ministry of Magic. When it comes to Fenir's work - well, let's say I got off light." _

"_This is getting off light?" I croak, staring at her. Her mouth twists._

"_You should see Bill. His are deeper, much more livid, and of course, there are far more of them - bite marks too."_

"_Any - any others?"_

"_My arm," she says, stretching it out. The word "Mudblood" is carved in raised scars on her arm. "Bellatrix Lestrange, when we were caught hunting Horcruxes in what should have been my seventh year. Her Cruciatus Curses didn't leave any scars though. Except here, in my mind. But she left me with something nicely permanent. The blade was cursed. Every year, on the anniversary of her carving it into me, it opens right back up. That's in a couple of weeks, actually. I tend to scream rather a lot."_

"_You feel it happen?" I feel nauseated. _

"_Yes. I do. You won't want to see it."_

"_I'll be here anyway." She doesn't acknowledge it, and instead of persisting, not wanting to argue with her, I trace the scars from her collarbone to her hip. She shivers, but doesn't stop me. "Merlin, you're fucking gorgeous." She tries to stop it, but a smile stretches out anyway. _

"_You're just saying that because you're finally getting a look at my breasts."_

"_That has absolutely nothing to do with it," I tell her, and bend my head to kiss her. She responds enthusiastically, and the next thing I know, we've managed to arrange ourselves into a pretty compromising position, which is how Draco finds us when he comes bursting in. I throw a pillow at him, and Hermione scrambles to protect her modesty. "Jesus, Malfoy, don't you ever knock?"_

"_I did," he protests, looking all hurt. "You didn't answer so I thought you were both still sleeping, so I thought I'd better let you know it's half past seven and Hermione said she wanted to make an early start."_

"_Fuck, the lamb!" she shrieks, bolting off the bed, taking the duvet with her, leaving me to shove a pillow over my crotch so neither of them see exactly how worked up I got. _

"_I've put it in. I've been up since half past six. I got it all ready and when there still wasn't any movement, I put it in at seven. If it takes six hours to slow-roast, we should be ready to eat it by one."_

"_Lamb?"_

"_We're having a slow-roasted lamb for dinner."_

"_A whole lamb?"_

"_Yeah. Well, it's in bits, obviously, there isn't a whole sheep in the oven."_

"_Comforting."_

"_Uh, well, thanks, Draco. I'm going to take a bath." She wraps herself firmly in the duvet, which she leaves outside the bathroom. I gather it up when I've dressed and make her bed. I go downstairs to join Draco, who is chopping potatoes. _

"_Look who's gone all domesticated and housekeepery."_

"_It's the bare minimum I can do, after she's been so kind. She's given me a home - a real home."_

"_Just making a passing observation. Where did you disappear off to last night?" He misses the potato, and hit's the board with a loud thunk. _

"_Nowhere," he says, his voice a couple of octaves higher than usual, resuming his chopping. I raise my eyebrows._

"_Bullshit. You vanished off the face of the planet for a good forty-five minutes. Last Hermione and I saw of you, you were in the arms of whatshisface from Law Enforcement."_

"_Tom."_

"_Yes, Tom. You were pretty cosy-looking. Then I go off to get some drinks with Potter, and when I get back, you'd disappeared. And you missed midnight." He mutters something._

"_Didn't quite catch that," I say, feeling the smirk spread over my face._

"_I said I didn't miss midnight."_

"_Have your own little moment, did you?"_

"_Shut up." Hermione reappears, wearing jeans and a cashmere sweater. She ties an apron over it, and starts chopping vegetables, sliding a board and knife over to me, and then some large green apples, directing me to peel them and then chop them up._

"_I was just asking Draco where he vanished off to last night," I say, innocently. She whips her head round, and smiles at him._

"_And what did he say?"_

"_That he didn't miss midnight." _

"_Did you and Tom have a sneaky kiss somewhere?" she demands. He doesn't answer, but to be fair, he doesn't really need to. He just goes beetroot red. "Oh, my God, you did!"_

"_Shut up," he says, but he's smiling._

"_Oh, Draco, I'm so happy for you!" She flings her arms around his neck, narrowly missing his ear with the knife she's still holding. "Tell me the details."_

"_Only if you tell me what you and Blaise got up to."_

"_Not much," we say, in unison. _

"_He put me to bed, and spent the night in my room. He was the perfect gentleman."_

"_I did offer to be even more gentlemanly and sleep on the couch. But we made the unfortunate discovery that Hermione hasn't done the laundry, so I couldn't use her blankets."_

"_Uh-huh. Sure."_

"_It's true. I was a little lax," Hermione says, giggling. "Now, spill."_

"_We went and found ourselves a nice quiet corner, and we cuddled, and we kissed."_

"_Is that it?" I ask._

"_What do you mean, is that it?" Hermione demands. "What did you expect, that they'd go find a broom cupboard and fuck each other?" Draco bypasses red and goes purple, and I laugh._

"_Sweet Merlin, Hermione, have you ever considered being tactful?" he splutters. _

"_I just meant I think that's enough," she protests. "I think it's nice! Did he say he'd owl?"_

"_He did. And he made me promise to owl back."_

"_And will you?" He blushes, but refuses to be any further drawn on the subject. Finally, after a good couple of hours of preparation, everything is ready to go into the oven, although nothing will actually be cooked for a fair while yet. A tawny owl knocks on the window, and Draco goes over to pay him. He's carrying quite a bundle of letters and a second barn owl is right behind him, clutching a copy of today's paper. To all our surprises, a third owl is behind it, but Hermione seems to know the third one, as she doesn't pay him, just strokes his head and gives him a treat before he flies off. _

"_Do you always get this much post?" I ask her, surprised._

"_No. I imagine this is the start of the reaction from whatever is in today's paper."_

"_People have already had time to react?"_

"_Some of it'll be from people who were at the Ball. Of course, there's probably just regular mail in there too. This one's from Harry." She goes up to wash her hands, and when she's come back down, we sit down together to read the paper._


	40. Chapter 40

_GRYFFINDOR'S GOLDEN GIRL AND SLYTHERIN'S SILVER PRINCE_

_A surprise kiss was the talk of the annual Ministry Ball last night, as Mr Blaise Zabini and Miss Hermione Granger created quite the sensation! Effectively ending rumours of a reconciliation between Miss Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley, whom she dated for two years four years ago, Mr Zabini and Miss Granger very publicly announced the end of their long-running feud by kissing in front of several reporters and most of the guests at the Ball last night. A guest overheard them discussing the best way to reveal their relationship, before Mr Zabini handed their glasses of champagne to Mr Harry Potter, and swept his new girlfriend into a passionate embrace. We can also announce what appears to be a truce called between Messrs. Zabini, Potter and Draco Malfoy, the recently acquitted Death Eater in Miss Granger's custody until September. While the three men have been notorious enemies for years, at the Ball they were snapped laughing and talking together, apparently getting along very well. _

_Of course, it is very easy to see Mr Zabini's reasons for being so attracted to the famous Miss Granger - she was looking her stunning best at the Ball, and is, of course, the famous Golden Girl. Once more making no effort to hide the ugly scars she received from infamous Fenir Greyback during the War, she dazzled in a green strapless gown, while Mr Zabini wore a Muggle tuxedo with matching bow-tie. See page 2,3,4,5 and 6 for exclusive interview and photographs from the event._

_ROMANCE FOR CONVICT?_

_Another topic for discussion at the Ball - which was, in this reporter's opinion, quite the place to be for scandal and gossip! - was the apparent "hook-up" between Mr Malfoy and Mr Thomas Bolt of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, who were spotted dancing together, and who were conspicuously absent at the final countdown to midnight. However, if they are really to embark upon a relationship, and it was not merely a result of champagne and the party atmosphere, one has to wonder if Mr Bolt is really aware of Mr Malfoy's dark past… Pictures page 2,3. _

DPOV

"You'd really think they'd have better things to do than go into such extensive detail. Six pages indeed. Usually the Ball only gets three. And exclusive interview my arse. We only answered about three questions," Hermione says, laughing. She surveys the mail. "Harry, Kingsley, don't know, don't know, don't know, looks like Severus's handwriting." She opens her letters, and chuckles her way through them. "Kingsley says we should all be more discreet, and 'take an example from Draco, who at least made himself scarce to kiss scandalous types.'_" _I laugh, and she passes the letter over to me to scan through. "Harry says we're famous, isn't he hilarious. Also that there's a picture that makes you look like you're staring at my chest." Blaise opens the paper, and scans through the pictures.

"So there is."

"Severus is proud of us, but also recommends we learn more subtle ways of drawing attention to ourselves. Now, who are these three?" They turn out to be from very early risers, who have seen the _Prophet_ already. "These two seem to be in the 'get in there my son' camp. This one seems to think I'm on crack. Either that or you've put me under the Imperius Curse or Confunded me. He says he doesn't know which yet."

"Bound to be one or two nutters," Blaise says, reading the letter for himself before passing it to me. I read it, laugh, and hand it back to Hermione, who puts it on the pile with the rest. "Well, that wasn't too bad," he says, brightly. "Not sure how I feel about the headline though. D'you think we'll make the public opinion page tomorrow?"

"Probably. Oh well, ten o clock. Might get more letters today, might not. But either way, the others will be here soon. Blaise, you may as well know - they won't just have written to me. And, well -" She pauses, considering her words carefully.

"And they might be a hell of a lot ruder to me than they were to you."

"Well, yes. That's a possibility." She looks him square on. "I'd like to read what they write to you. Blaise, no, listen. I would like to see it. I would like you not to try some white knight crap with a view to protecting me. Of course, if you choose to hide the worst from me, I can't force you to show me. I'd just like to know what they say to us both."

"We can discuss it later."

"I'd like to discuss it now."

"And I would prefer to discuss it later." I get the distinct impression that this - well, affair, relationship, whatever it is - will be anything but quiet and peaceful. They'll fight, argue, fall out, and all I can do is hope that they'll be adult enough to move on after each argument and carry on trying to make it work. Hermione obviously considers the pros and cons of having it out with him versus giving in, and apparently decides to give in, as she shrugs.

"Fine. Later." She goes into the kitchen, and Blaise looks at me.

"I've pissed her off, haven't I?"

"No, I don't think so. If she were pissed at you, she'd shout at you. I think she just sees the logic of your argument." He sighs, gets up, goes after her. There are some whispers, a silence, and then they come out together, both holding a couple of bottles. Knowing they've reached some agreement, I decide to let it lie, and go get a couple of bottles of my own. She has multiple bottles of each drink, both alcoholic and not, Muggle and Magical. The smell of dinner is starting to permeate Hermione's little house, something herbal and sweet and yet meaty. I promise Blaise that Hermione really did all the hard work: she was braising and marinating and seasoning at lunch time yesterday, and that she's an absolutely cracking cook. Hermione has dragged out her ancient sideboard, put some lacy, spiders-web doilies down to stop them marking her surfaces, and finally flutters about with her duster to make sure everything's tidy.

"Hermione," Blaise asks. "Is this original?" He taps the sideboard.

"Yes, 17th century."

"Who restored it?"

"I did. It's a hobby."

"You restore antiques as a hobby?"

"Yes. It was something to do after I couldn't fight Voldemort anymore, something to do when I was still kidding myself that I was OK."

"Do much now?"

"Not really. Not been shopping for antiques recently."

"Well, I've got a desk I've been meaning to get looked at. Needs a bit of work. Think you could come over one day and look at it?"

"That's a shit chat-up line."

"Maybe, but I really do want you to look at a desk," he says, laughing.

"Alright." There's a knock at the front door at that moment, and I go to open it. It's the whole Weasley clan, minus Harry and Ginny, and I stand back to admit them all. Everyone piles in to Hermione's living room, and there are shouted hello's and how are you's and, of course, some back slapping with the boys - I notice Ron is holding a copy of the _Prophet. _I try and sneak off to the kitchen, but I'm spotted by George, who snags the paper from his brother and corners me.

"Oh no you don't, Draco. You're in here too. Who is this man you're looking so cosy with?"

"His name's Tom," I say, standing on my dignity. "Hermione introduced us."

"Oh, did she now? Surprised she found time between wearing Blaise as a necklace and drinking champagne." Hermione throws her duster at his head. It lands on Meg, who's been prowling round and rubbing against everyone's legs in greeting, who lets out an indignant screech and shoots up my leg and under my sweater, thus creating enough of a distraction to stop George needling me. I fish her out and carry her into the kitchen for a drink of water and some petting. Poor cat doesn't know what's hit her. She's all shivering and traumatised. I carry her back into the living room, where by now, everyone has settled down. I look at Hermione in what I hope is a reproachful way. She's cuddled up with Blaise.

"Say sorry to Meg. Poor little thing's still trembling." Hermione immediately holds her arms out, and I put Meg into them.

"Sorry, Meg. I was aiming for naughty George." Meg rubs her face against Hermione's hand, and then jumps down, and comes back over to me. She clambers up my leg and takes up her favourite spot on my lap. She's giving George her best offended kitten look. I look over at Hermione and Blaise, who seem to fit together like pieces of a jigsaw. She's wearing jeans I've never seen before, slim-flare blue ones, and a red jumper. She's certainly looking healthier - the V of her sweater reveals a much less prominent collar-bone than two months ago, and she's finally got some colour in her cheeks. He, of course, is as gorgeous as he always was, and his dark skin makes an excellent contrast with her honey curls and creamy colouring. I wonder if anyone will ever look at me, and say I make a good pair, that we fit. Perhaps - no. I'm not going down routes like that.

"What have you got to drink?" Ron asks, from where he's lazing in an armchair conjured up for the occasion.

"It's all on the sideboard, go and have a look," Hermione says, visibly amused. "And while you're there, get me a glass of wine." He rolls his eyes, but does as he's told. "Where are Harry and Ginny, by the way?" Suddenly, her Floo flares into life, and a wildly indignant Ginny steps out of it, followed by a grinning Harry. "Speak of the devil."

"Devil is very accurate!" Ginny fumes, pouring herself a glass of something Muggle and non-alcoholic, and coming to sit next to me.

"All I said was you were showing a lot more!"

"You said I was fat!"

"I did not."

"You said I was huge."

"I said nothing of the sort."

"Now, now, children. Play nicely together. Harry, mate, you should really know better than to mess with Ginny. Especially a pregnant, hormonal Ginny. Don't you remember the Bat Bogey Hex?"

"Vividly." Meg pats Ginny's tummy with her paw, and mews.

"Hello, cat."

"Meg," I say, promptly.

"Hello, Meg. Do you like my tummy?"

"I think she's confused as to why you've got it."

"I'm going to have a little baby." Meg mews again, and pats at her again, and promptly deserts me to drape herself all over Ginny's lap and rub her little cat face all over her tummy.

The lamb is ready on time, the potatoes roasted to absolute perfection. Hermione looks about set to topple Molly Weasley's position as the ultimate cook. She puts red wine in her gravy. I've never met anyone who put wine, red or otherwise, into their gravy, but Hermione does. She does the potatoes in dripping instead of oil, and makes her own Yorkshire puddings. The lamb melts in the mouth. I think Ginny actually has some kind of mouth-based orgasm, judging by the noise she makes when she takes her first mouthful. I let Meg have one little piece of lamb, and a fragment of potato, and insist nobody else gives her anything. I get the suspicion that Hermione is sneaking her titbits though. Blaise gets to his feet when we're about halfway through, and everyone turns expectantly.

"I'd just like to propose a toast to the New Year, and to the new start it's offering us all. I hope it's not too early to say that, for the first time, in a very long time, the light is truly at the end of the tunnel, and we're not far from it. To the New Year!" Everyone raises their glasses, and Harry gets up.

"Also, to Hermione. Not just for cooking this fantastic meal, but to her for getting better. For having the courage to face her problems and to start healing. It's good to have you back, Mia." She smiles, blushes as we all raise glasses to her.

After dinner is a hazy blur of alcohol, the warm fire, laughter, jokes, and discussions of everything from the article in the _Prophet_ and Hogwarts, to Meg and Hermione's new romance. When it's finally just us two, when everyone else has gone home and Blaise has arranged to come over before we all go back to work on Wednesday, the first day of the new working year, we snuggle down and watch a rubbish movie on the TV. No more letters came, no more owls from indignant or supportive _Prophet_ readers. And even though we both know that this is probably the calm before the storm, we pretend that everything is perfect and that everything is just going to be fine, that everyone will just accept her new relationship and let her nurture it in private.

Even though we both know that that is an impossible hope.


	41. Chapter 41

HPOV

The opinion page of the _Prophet _is twice as long as usual. You'd really think people had better things to discuss than who I get involved with, but apparently not. It's a fairly divided page, some people supportive, others acting like us getting together will resurrect Voldemort, at the very least.

_I read about Miss Granger's new romance with some trepidation. However, seeing the pictures and reading the interview they gave, was sufficient to convince me that they make a very lovely-looking couple. I wish them all the best for the future! (Mrs Greengrass, Wycombe.) _

_It was with disgust that I saw that Miss Granger has stooped to the level of dating a Slytherin. Being so famous and so successful, one would imagine she could do far better than a man with a dubious past and an even more dubious reputation. (Mr Hyatt, Surrey.) _

_A warm congratulations to Miss Granger and Mr Zabini! They deserve warm and sincere praise for their bravery in announcing their admittedly controversial relationship to the world. I would like to take the opportunity to say that I personally wish them a long and happy future, even if doing so is rather "jumping the gun", as the Muggles would say! (Dedalus Diggle, Surrey.)_

_I'd just like to say that Miss Granger and Mr Zabini are at perfect liberty to see who they wish, and if that is each other, then so be it. We should all mind our own business - I'm quite sure Miss Granger has had quite enough of people prying into her personal life. (S. Paterson, Aberdeen.) _

_Having taught both Miss Granger and Mr Zabini, I can safely say that they are two exceptionally bright and mature individuals, well capable of deciding whom to see in their personal lives. I would also like to add that perhaps their union will mean less intensive house rivalry than previously seen. (H. Slughorn, Hogwarts.)_

_I'm repulsed. I'm taking down the picture I have of her on my wall, and would like it on the record that I whole-heartedly disapprove of a most ill-advised choice. Perhaps the Minister for Magic should check to see if she hasn't been caught with an Imperius curse. It's the only logical explanation for her outrageous behaviour. (Name Withheld.)_

My phone rings before I can read any more - and definitely before I can make a start on the pile of letters I've received. You really would think that people had better things to do with their time than write letters to me about who I chose to see. But evidently not. It's Blaise.

"Are you absolutely positive you want to read what they write to me?"

"Why, is it bad?"

"It's pretty bad."

"Yes, I do," I decide. "I'd rather we share it than you hide it from me, because I'll just make it all seem ten times worse than it actually is. I haven't started on my mail yet, but the opinion page in the _Prophet_ is making for an interesting read. Seems they've made it a fifty-fifty split, but I'm not sure how accurate that is."

"I know, I've seen it. Frankly, they can all just learn to mind their own damn business."

"I'm a pretty hot commodity. They'd have had an opinion on anyone I choose to date. It's Draco I'm worried about - if he and Tom start something, it won't be made easy."

"We can face that issue as and when it may occur. And if it is a problem, I'd imagine that we know enough people between us to make it not a problem."

"Uh-huh. When's a good time to come look at this desk?"

"Whenever you want. I live a fairly boring life."

"Me too," I say, laughing. "Might run over after lunch. Can I Apparate in?"

"No, but I'll meet you at the gate."

"Alright."

"Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't bring Draco. I'd like you to myself for once." I laugh, agree, and we say our goodbyes. An owl knocks on the window, and to my relief, he only has one letter with him. It's addressed to Draco, who I find pottering about upstairs with a duster and humming Frosty the Snowman. I hand over the letter, beg him to find something new to hum, and return to my own pile of correspondence. To be fair, probably 96% of them are nice letters, saying that they think it's ok or that they respect us for being so open and honest with everyone. There are the nutters, of course, the ones that seem to think that by kissing Blaise, I'm betraying some great cause of expectation. From one of them, you'd think I'd started shagging Voldemort, it's all about how I'm betraying the Light. Nutter. I put it aside with a sigh, and open the next one.

DPOV

_Draco -_

_I started this letter three times. Now I feel stupid for confessing that. But I decided I'd just cut to the chase. I enjoyed meeting you, and I'd like to see you again. Can we do dinner, today, if possible?_

_Tom._

My heart beats so rapidly and sounds so loud in my ears, I half expect Hermione to hear it from downstairs. I open my bedroom window, and look around. There is a brown owl on the top of Hermione's apple tree, and I beckon him. I scribble a quick response of my own.

_Tom -_

_Yes. But it's not so simple - I'm in Hermione's custody. Any suggestions?_

_Draco._

I attach the letter to the owl, who hoots gently and nips my finger. I force myself to carry on dusting. I'm not going to sit around and bite my nails while I wait for his reply. Hermione comes back up, and doesn't seem to notice anything different about me. She's clutching a pile of correspondence, frowning horribly. I know it's letters from people who don't even know her, all assuming that they can offer their opinion on the choices she makes in her own life. I hate them for making her sad.

"I'm going over to Blaise's after lunch. Look at this desk," she says, smirking. "What do you want to do?" She always phrases it like I have some choice.

"Like it matters what I want," I snap at her. "I'm going to need some goddamn minder anyway." She surveys me, then drops her letters onto the desk and coming to stand beside me.

"What's up, Dray?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"Yes. I know it isn't just you mad. I know this set-up sucks. I know. But there's something else."

"Yes. Fuck. Tom wrote," I say, gesturing at the parchment. "Asked me to go for dinner with him. I can't go out unsupervised by either you or Potter."

"I see the issue. Did you reply?"

"Yeah. Told him the set-up. Waiting for his response." As if on cue, the brown owl is back.

_Draco_

_Fuck, I just want you to myself. I know. How about I come to you? Hermione can still be in the house - but we could be alone._

_Tom_

She nods, scanning the lines rapidly.

"Do it. I'll get Blaise over. We'll stay upstairs. You won't even see us, fuck, you won't even know we're in the damn house. Every Charm I've got, I'll use to give you your privacy. Tell him," she says, her eyes gleaming, "tell him you'll cook him dinner."

"Bit intimate, isn't it?"

"Draco, I know Tom. And reading this? He doesn't want intimacy. I think he wants to ravage you until you can't remember your own name." I actually gasp. "Plenty of time for intimacy. You want him. He, clearly, wants you. Just do it."

"Do what?"

"Oh Draco. Whatever the hell feels right to you." She pats me on the arm. "I can call Blaise, reschedule -"

"No, no. Call Potter. You go. Do whatever the hell feels right to you." She laughs, and stands on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. So she makes us both lunch, I return Tom's owl with attached invite, Harry comes over, and she zips out. I notice there are fine lines of stress around his eyes.

"You OK, Potter?"

"Ginny's ill. I mean, it's just a temperature and a cough. But she's never ill, Draco, never."

"What did the doctor say?"

"She won't see one," he says, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair in frustration. "She said she's fine and she doesn't need me fussing like an old woman." Under any other circumstances, I suppose that would be funny.

"Want me to talk to her? Objective party, so to speak?"

"She's agreed. If she's not better in two weeks, she'll see someone. But yes, I would like you to try and persuade her. I mean, if it was just her, then I'd probably let her be all bone-headed and stubborn. But - the baby, Draco."

"I know, Harry. But it might just be a cold. You never know, she might wake up tomorrow morning and be totally fine." He nods.

"I know. I _know_ that. But all I want to do is protect her and our baby. She's so much as sneezes, I can't help but panic. It's like - after all the bad shit, I can't quite make myself believe that everything is over. That Hermione's getting better, that you're not a scumbag, that Blaise is the one making her happy. I can't believe that everything is just going to be OK."

"After so long dodging the blows, you're worried that an attack will come while your defences are down."

"Exactly." He shoots me a look.

"You think you got the monopoly of being fucked up by that damn War, Harry? I'm still looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Voldemort. I'm still waking up thinking I'm in goddamn Azkaban, that some fucker is going to go for me, because I was a traitor to them. There are still some night when I can't go to sleep, when I'm literally too frightened to shut my eyes, because I know what I'm going to see, what I'm going to remember. I can still feel the Dementors." I shudder. "Christ, just thinking about them seems a chill down my spine. And I hate that. After everything, the thing I'm most afraid of is a memory."

"The thing you are most afraid of," Harry says, slowly, staring at me, "is fear itself."

"Huh. Who said that?"

"Remus Lupin."

"I liked him, you know. I know it didn't seem like it, and it was probably because I was so much under my father, but looking back, when I'd grown up a bit - Lupin was definitely the best."

"He'd like to know that." Harry isn't the type to pet people comfortingly, but he does sort of pat my shoulder. "He'd love hearing that. I think he never quite gave up on you."

"He had a son, didn't he?"

"Yes. Teddy. Andromeda - Tonks' mother - looks after him. I'm his godfather. As a matter of fact, he's staying over at the weekend. I'll bring him over, you can meet the little tyke."

"Don't you have to ask Hermione first?"

"Are you kidding? Hermione _loves _Teddy. She'd have him every weekend." He chews his lip, considering. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes."

"From Blaise?"

"If necessary, Potter."

"Hermione wants kids, she wants them badly. But she's frightened."

"Why?"

"Christ, she'd flay me alive if she knew I'd told you this. It's been a while since Hermione - you know. Had a period. She thinks she's done so much damage to her body, too much damage, that she isn't going to be able to conceive. Her doctor wants her to settle into a healthier weight, he thinks they'll come back on their own once she settles into her health. It's the first time ever that I haven't been able to give her what she wants. What she wants is confidence, reassurance that she isn't broken in the most primal way possible."

"Why are you telling me all this? Why not tell Blaise all this?"

"Because it isn't Blaise's business yet."

"He loves her, Harry. I'd say it's very much his business."

"He loves her?"

"Yes. I mean, really, truly, wants to spend the rest of his life with her love. Wants to have kids with her."

"When did he tell you all this?"

"He doesn't need to, Harry. It's all over his face whenever she so much as walks into a room."

"Hermione has to tell him this. I'm telling you because it's something we'll probably have to deal with, because if she really can't conceive, she'll be devastated. She'll break, Draco, and I can't let her go through that again. I can't see her coming back out the other side of another fog like that."

"Is there really a chance they won't just come back?"

"Yes. But if we get her back to a healthy weight, and we get her back into the routine, then maybe." He's silent, and I get the feeling that for now, at least, this subject is closed and we need to move on. Wordlessly, I get us both a beer, and we find some mindless football game on. I wonder if he's trying as hard as I am to switch his mind off.


	42. Chapter 42

HPOV

Blaise's house is beautiful, private, set back from the road and protected by an iron gate and a brick wall. He's leaning on the gate, and hustles me inside. I guess after all the years he's spent being followed, he values his privacy. I can't help the gasp that escapes when I see what he's hiding behind the wall. I'm standing in what looks like a wood. There are oak trees everywhere, their bare branches tangling, covered in a shell of snow. In the summer, this must be like a green tent of light. I can see us curled under a tree, maybe picnicking, maybe even making love on a blanket. Christ. I want to sleep with him, even while he's bundled up in his winter coat.

His house is the second surprise. I was expecting something along the lines of the Malfoy Manor, huge, rambling, old-fashioned, with big, echoic rooms and high ceilings. But instead I see a rustic country manor, made of blush-red brick. It's not too big, has a clock tower to my left and what seems to be a tiny church to one side. Lights are blazing from three of the windows, one on the top floor, two on the bottom, giving the place an air of cosy companionship. A huge porch is imposing, and he drags me up the steps. When we get inside, the warmth envelops me like a soft blanket, wrapping around me and drawing me in. I sigh with relief.

"Want the tour? Come on, I'll get you a drink. I've got pumpkin juice or Butterbeer, or there's tea or coffee. I could make you some orange juice."

"Make it?"

"Yeah, I make my own. Got this machine."

"I'll have a Butterbeer." He leads me down a corridor made of stone, with what seem to be the original flagstones on the floor - which are warm under my feet.

"It's a charm. When I took over the place it needed so much work doing to it, and I couldn't let them rip up my floors to put the heating in." He leads me into a huge kitchen, with the original brick fireplace full of a huge, crackling fire.

"Oh my god."

"Thought you might appreciate this. I tried to keep everything I could. I think the table is the original." It's a long, scarred piece of rough-cut oak. It's clearly never seen sandpaper or varnish. The nicks from a thousand knives pit it. He's got an Aga.

"I've changed my mind," I announce, taking a sip of my drink. "I don't like you any more. I'm in love with your kitchen."

"Can the kitchen kiss you?" he says, smirking, advancing on me. I smirk right back.

"No. Can you?"

"Oh, I can, Granger. But only if you ask me nicely." His lips are hovering just over mine, his breath washing over me.

"I don't ask, Blaise. I take." But it's not me who closes the gap, it's him, his hands sliding into my hair and dragging me to him. It's a hot, hard kiss, and we slide apart mutually. He rests his forehead on mine.

"I could spend entire days kissing you, Hermione. I don't think I'll ever get tired of kissing you."

"I might, if the kitchen learns to kiss."

"I'll burn it to the ground if it so much as twitches," he growls, biting gently on my earlobe.

"Oh, threats of violence. I love it when you're dark and dangerous."

"Granger, lets do the tour. Otherwise I'm going to start considering my kitchen a love rival and I don't think I'd win if I tried to beat up the Aga." He takes me over the house, showing me the big main room with a high ceiling, with a huge fireplace and a big cushioned sofa that looks like one of those ones that would just absorb you if you sat on it too long. There's also a collection of beanbag chairs scattered about, big black material ones I want to jump in and curl up in one. He shows me a huge old room that was clearly once and always a library, which he's kept full of original furnishings. There is no electricity in this big, low room, and it's lit a lot like Hogwarts, a combination of natural light and torches in scones. the apparently standard fireplace is here too, and on closer inspection, some of the wood has clearly been restored. It's well done, but it's noticeable - although it's probable that I only notice that because I have experience in restoring antiques. I hope whoever did that did it as an absolute last resort. Christ. Screw his kitchen. I'm cheating on it with his library. In fact, I might just go for the whole house. God, it's beautiful.

"This was a Muggle house?"

"Yes. In one family for I believe seven generation. But then the last resident died and there was no family left. The house went up for auction - it was falling apart, it couldn't be sold on the retail market. The last resident lived in the clock tower, it was the only bit the health and safety people actually passed fit to live in, and even that was a wreck. This main bit was probably only about a year away from crumbling down entirely. It still had floors, walls, ceilings, and the original features in, but there was damp rot, dry rot, mould, rats in the cellars, bats in the belfry. A lot of the windows were missing, there was no heating, no piped water - nothing had been done on this place since the very early 20th century, probably round when Queen Victoria was on the throne. I've had a lot of it dated. The house was built in the 1500s, and there's a record of it in the local parish files of a sale and renovation in the mid 1600's around the time of the Civil War." He stops, suddenly, glancing at me. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm boring you."

"Don't stop, Blaise. This is bloody interesting."

"Well, come back downstairs and get another drink, we can curl up in the beanbag chair and talk." When we've pulled up two big chairs to a window through which we can see a gathering snowstorm, he talks again. "The family who owned it before the sale were probably pro-monarchy and the house was probably seized. But it was sold and renovated, and all the features within are dated then. Only the shell of the house itself is the 1500s. And the chapel, but there's barely anything left of that inside. Probably only a matter of time before the walls start crumbling. Anyway, that's when all the features date to, and I kept and saved as many as I could. The fireplace in the library was crumbling in the lightest breeze. I called in an expert, and there was pretty much nothing to do but replace it. I saw you looking at it. A serious plus of having so much money was that I could have things restored or saved. And I saved everything I could, and what needed replacing entirely I did with antiques. It was a fun few months, but it has to be admitted, without magic it never would have worked. Everyone was saying it totally beyond repair, that it needed to be entirely rebuilt. I shocked a lot of experts when I saved it."

"I wish I could have helped. When did you buy this place?"

"A year after the war ended. I was back in the country, mostly to investigate the aftermath, find out what was going on with people I knew. I went to the auction by chance, saw the house up on the board and brought it on a whim. And more or less immediately regretted it when I was handed a hard hat and not allowed to use the stairs." I laugh.

"What sold it?"

"The fact that it needed so much work and the grounds."

"How much ground do you have here?"

"Fifty acres. The parkland at the front, there are actual gardens at the back, I assume they were put in by some fearfully powerful Muggle aristocrat, and then just acres of grass. If I didn't have magic, I'd go crazy trying to maintain it. I do get someone in to do the gardens, but the rest I control myself. No point spending unnecessary money."

"It's a beautiful house, Blaise."

"I was lucky, in the right place at the right time. But thank you. Although, seeing you dribbling over the library, I'm jealous."

"I was not dribbling," I say, sniffing contemptuously. "I was transfixed."

"No, there was definitely drool."

"There was not, and I resent your wild accusations."

"Want to see the upstairs? I can show you my desk." I'll have to ask him at some point how he manages to make 'I'll show you my desk' into a sexually laden innuendo. But right now, I just bat my eyelashes, trying to make an innocent face.

"But I'm _so _comfortable."

"Fine," he says, and then stoops down, scooping me out of the beanbag chair and carrying me bridal style.

"Put me down!" I say in mock indignation, winding my arms around his neck anyway.

"I might never put you down. I might put a Permanent Sticking Charm on you and never let you go."

"That might be interesting, if we end up deciding we'd like to rip each other's heads off instead of kiss."

"It certainly would be," he says, laughing. We go upstairs, and I wriggle to get down. He sets me on my feet - with far more handling than necessary - and takes my hand to lead me down the corridor. His room is big and beautiful, without being cavernous or shadowy. His bed looks ridiculously comfortable, and when I perch on the edge of it, I find that it is just as comfortable. I flop back with a sigh, and he approaches me, standing at the edge, his thighs just brushing my knees. "Interested in more than my antiques, Granger?"

"Yes, this bed. Go away, I want some private time with the bed. You're interfering in what I'm sure will become a long and involved affair."

"Granger, the sight of you lying on my bed is too much for me to control. Either sit up or stay there, but you'd best be prepared if you stay there." I smirk at him.

"Prepared for what, Mr Zabini?"

"You'll find out." His promise is the darkest of caresses, and I feel a pleasant shudder run through me. I deliberately don't move for three seconds, and just as his eyes darken, I sit up. I see the flash of disappointment, which vanishes when I hook my fingers through the loops of his jeans and pull him closer. "Hermione -" he grinds out, but I reach up and put my finger on his lips.

"Shut up." He nods, eyes darkening again. I keep tugging, and eventually he gets the hint and nudges me back onto his bed. I make a cradle with my hips, and I can feel his warm chest through my thin t-shirt, and find myself wishing I'd worn something a little nicer. I can't even remember what underwear I have on.

BPOV

She doesn't push me away, instead cradling my hips in her own. We're too close to the edge of the bed, and I push my chest from hers, rearranging us in a confused rush, ending up with her lying among my pillows, her t-shirt scrunched up, exposing a good expanse of creamy skin. I remember that time in her bedroom, when she took off her clothes and had no blush of embarrassment or flinch of shyness, but now she's almost trying to tuck it down.

"Don't you dare, woman." Her eyes spark, and she slides her hands round to my neck and drags me down for a kiss. I can feel her breasts pushing onto my chest, and her hands are roaming down over my back and sides, and they come to rest at my waist, before she slides one hand into my back pocket. I break our kiss, look down at her. Her smile is pure, unadulterated lust. I press my hips down into her groin, and am rewarded by her breathy moan, barely audible. "Can you feel what you bloody do to me?" I growl, and she rolls her hips up, her smile deepening to a teasing, challenging smirk. Fuck. "Stop me now, Hermione, because otherwise there's no turning back, and I swear, I won't be gentle with you."

"I don't want you to be gentle with me." I smile, elated, triumphant, and rip her t-shirt over her head. She responds by wrestling with the first of my buttons, then by rolling her eyes, gripping the fabric, and ripping. She shoves it off my shoulders, sitting up for a better angle. I push her back, run my eyes down her chest, and thoroughly appreciate the view. Gray lace breaks the expanse of cream skin and scars, but she's never looked more stunning. She doesn't try and angle away to hide her scars, not for glamour charms to conceal them. She simply reclines on my pillows, breathing hard, letting me drink her in - from the darting of her eyes, I can see she's doing some looking of her own. Her slow, lazy smile when me make eye contact sends a thrill through me, and she crooks her finger at me. I smile down at her, but ignore her beckoning finger, instead scooting back on my knees, and putting my hands on her waist, resting my palms on her waistband and my fingers on her skin. I look at her, and she nods. I flip the button fastening them, hook my fingers under the band, and pull them down her legs. I throw them to one side, pull off her socks, leave her in just her underwear. I dispose of her bra, and then settle back onto her, kissing her gently.

"You're wearing clothes," she says, her eyes narrowing. "I don't like it." Almost before she's finished talking, she's cast a spell and I'm naked before her. Now she's out of balance, and I smile, hooking my fingers under the waistband of her knickers. She's breathing hard, the challenge in her eyes, and rears up to kiss me, helping me take her panties off, as if I needed any assistance with that.

I tease her, a hot kiss, the lightest, swiftest of touches, and she loses it. She flips us so swiftly I'm not entirely sure she doesn't use magic and straddles my hips. Her smile goes vacant and her mouth drops open as she slides down, engulfing me in a wet, heated, tight clutch, and I groan, seizing her hips to steady her and ground myself. But she ignores me entirely and leans forward, sliding gently, rocking her hips to mine. She rears above me, sunlight pouring in and lighting her skin, hair, eyes - she looks almost fiery, she feels like an inferno, something so beautiful and wonderfully dangerous. I grapple with her for a moment, rolling us. She tucks her knees up and back, and if possible, it makes her even tighter around me. I groan, pick up my thrusts, drop a hand to between her legs, find her little bundle of nerves. When I meet her lips for a frenzied, passionate kiss, I taste the salt of sweat, and her skin feels damp beneath my hands.

"Blaise," she hisses, her teeth gritted and hands grabbing my arms in a grim clutch, nails scratching. She mumbles a stream of nonsense, and then her eyes roll back in her head and she goes tense all over, shudders running through her. A noise escapes her and I feel her clutch, clutch, clutch around me, and her hands still, and then it washes over me, that last edge is taken and the final plunge is made.

I slump onto her, literally unable to support my own weight any longer. Immediately, she wraps her arms and legs around me and holds onto me. Her breathing is a little ragged and her heart is pounding. I hear it settle down, hear it calm over the next few minutes. Finally, I summon up the strength to roll away, but only to immediately take her into my arms and kiss the tip of her nose, which makes her giggle.

"God. I've been imagining that for weeks." Her eyes dance.

"Since before I gave in to your charms?"

"Oh yes, definitely before that."

"Live up to your imaginings?"

"Far beyond," I say, drawing a lazy kiss from her. She laughs, and tucks herself a little closer. I Summon a blanket, and we smuggle down together. I don't think either of us sleep, but we don't move for some time. Finally, she stretches like a little cat, and blinks up at me.

"What time is it? I murmur, kissing her.

"Getting on for four," she says, smiling. "And I am going to have to be very rude and say that I need to be getting on. Tom is coming over for dinner, and I promised Draco that I'd hide upstairs and give them some alone time."

"I'd offer to come, and keep you company," I say, ruefully. "But there's a man coming over to look at the chapel and see if it's worth conserving."

"I hope it is," she says, extracting herself from my arms. I lie back on the pillows and watch her dress. "See something you like?"

"Merlin, yes."

"I wish you could come."

"So do I. I might if there's time, I'll call."

"Do," she says, coming back over to the bed, bending to kiss me. I return it enthusiastically. "Blaise, stop. As much as I'd love to stay and let that kiss go a hell of a lot further, I really do need to get back."

"Oh, alright. I'll walk you to the gate."

I walk her out, we share another kiss that turns into another several kisses, and she finally pries herself out of my grip. She Apparates off, but I still see her smile and blow her a kiss. Merlin. I'm in trouble now.


	43. Chapter 43

I get home to a delicious smell, carrying two bottles of wine and a bag of Chinese takeaway. It's amazing, and I can hear clattering coming from the kitchen. He and Harry are tucked away in there.

"I'm making lasagne."

"My God, it smells spectacular."

"I thought it might be alright for a first meal. Not too fussy, not too elaborate, but also not too casual."

"It's fine," I assure him, smiling. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it. I picked up a couple bottles of wine on the way home - one red, one rosé. I'm taking the rosé upstairs, and I'm going to drink it while I eat my Chinese takeaway and get ready for returning to work."

"I'll save you some lasagne for tomorrow."

"Why, thank you. Now, I'll get out of your hair. Harry, thanks for coming over."

"No problem," he says, getting up and kissing my cheek. "See you at the weekend."

"Yeah, I've kid-proofed the corners." He laughs and waves before he leaves.

"OK, anything you need before I shamble off upstairs."

"Nope, I think I'm good." I laugh. "Oh sweetie, don't look so terrified. It's a dinner."

"OK. I need to talk to you."

"Alright, go ahead."

"What if he wants to have sex?"

"Um. Well, do you want to have sex?"

"Well, actually, yes I do."

"And you want to ask what?"

"How do I let him know I'm interested in having sex?"

"Eye contact, touch his hand a lot - not while you're eating - kiss him when he gets here, ask if he wants to maybe go upstairs with you. And don't worry - I'll ward my study. You can both make as much noise as you please, and I won't hear a word."

"It's really that simple?"

"Yeah, most of the time. At least you know he's interested."

"OK." He blows his cheeks out and nods. "OK."

"And," I say, "I expect to know the details tomorrow. As soon as he's gone."

"Must you?"

"Yes. I must. And to encourage you, I had sex with Blaise this afternoon. I'll give you the details if you give me yours tomorrow."

"Good. So he can stay the night?"

"If he wants to," I say, smirking. I want to laugh, he looks so eager and anxious, but I manage to refrain. Instead, I pat his arm, get a couple of plates for my food, a glass for the wine, and take myself off upstairs. I settle in my study, after changing clothes into soft yoga pants and a polo shirt, opening the door into my bedroom and warding both rooms. Now I can potter between the rooms and not bother them. I make absolutely sure I have everything available for settling in for the night, and settle down. I'm starving, but I'm aware it's only four thirty. Mind you, I did get plenty of food, thinking at least if I got too much I wouldn't have to bother Draco and Tom by having to go downstairs and seek more. Ah, to heck with it. I'm having some now. I get the little boxes out, and consider, deciding I'll have the special fried rice and sweet and sour chicken balls for now, and also two of the spring rolls and some of the prawn crackers. I'll save the duck in Cantonese and the deep fried shredded beef for later. I settle down with my laptop and set up an episode of Family Guy to watch while I eat. I feel the shimmer in the wards of the house, and get a little thrill when I realise Tom must be here. I scamper to the window, and peek out, spying him just coming up the garden path. I just about manage to resist the urge to start giggling like a mad woman. I return to my Chinese food, and then turn to work. Kingsley sent a memo, detailing what's been happening in my absence. Most of the reforms I'd been half-way through the paperwork for have been pushed through by my deputy, making the Firewhiskey law viable, and the last of the Hogwart's reforms have gone through. Snape was very ready to take over from McGonagall. She must have been preparing with him for her death for months, perhaps even before I went back to Hogwarts. He's been co-operative, and I know that he must have known he'd have to sign a lot of agreements. It pisses me off that she didn't just tell me. It makes me sad that she didn't tell me because she didn't want me to worry about her. I shake away the feelings, start reviewing the list of reforms. I have them on a spreadsheet on my computer, and I've ticked off the ones that have gone through. I need to draft the proposals about making reforms on the legal system. It's all that's left. I must tackle Azkaban. With the Dementors gone, there's serious questions in the media about whether or not we're able to keep the place secure enough, even though there hasn't been a single breakout or even attempt at it so far, six years after the war. People want something as intimidating as the Dementors out there, they want to know that nobody would try it. Never mind that the test processing for the guards for Azkaban is rigid and only the very best get through it, never mind that it's compulsory for recruits to take Veritaserum and submit to Legilimency to make absolutely sure of their allegiances. It still isn't enough for some people, knowing how very dangerous the prisoners of Azkaban can be. I suppose it never will be, but I need to at least show willing. They need to at least know that the Ministry takes public concerns seriously.

There were calls after the war for the death penalty to be introduced. They were only quelled with the assertion that life meant life. The people found guilty of crimes against humanity were going to die in prison, that was guaranteed. I turn my attention to a huge summary of legal nonsense, and mentally make a note to request a large bonus for Anna. I hear she and Kingsley had a date. I must ask her how that went at some point. I work for three hours, before breaking for another spring roll and a glass of wine. The phone rings, and I snatch it up rapidly before it can disturb Draco and Tom.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Hey, handsome. Can it be saved?" He laughs.

"Yeah, but it's going to set me back a bit."

"Oh yeah, such a hardship, rich boy," I snort. He laughs again.

"Still in need of company?"

"Why, do you know someone at a loose end?"

"Yeah. Tall, dark, I believe the word handsome was used, got a sixteenth century chapel to restore."

"He sounds very interesting."

"He does. I might have to date him myself. Can I come right in?"

"You can. But I can't feed you. I've got Chinese food and it is mine. You will have to prise this food from my cold, dead hands."

"What if I bring my own food? And wine?"

"Then I will lower the wards and you can come in."

"Good. See you in two minutes." I finish up the work I'm typing, and hear the distinctive crack that alerts me to his arrival. I put the wards back up, and shamble into my bedroom. I take a few moments to thoroughly appreciate the fact that there's a very handsome man currently lying on my bed. "So, are you going to come over here and kiss me, or will I have to come to you?"

"Oh," I say, pulling my best mock-disappointed face, "I'm sorry, didn't I say? I have all this work to do." I go back into my study, and sit back down at my computer, recommencing my typing.

"You are kidding me?" he says, incredulously. He comes into the study and stands in front of my desk.

"Not at all. I start work again on Monday, today is Thursday. I must be prepared to swing right back into it."

"Sweet Merlin, woman, I've got food, wine, I'm offering to share at least the wine and maybe the ice cream and you're _working_?"

"I have my own food. And I've got my own wine too. Now I also have a fine view."

"I'm your eye candy?"

"You most certainly are. And very fine candy it is."

"Glad I could be of help." He crosses his arms over his chest and tries to glower. It doesn't work, he just crumples into a smile.

"You know what would be even more helpful?"

"What?"

"If you weren't wearing quite so many clothes. That would a great inspiration."

"Oh, well, if it'll help you work, then I suppose I could take my jumper off…"

"Keep going."

"Well, I also seem to have this shirt on. I could take that off too…"

"Hmmm, now that is very, very inspiring." I finally stop typing and lean back in my chair. He smirks at me. I tap my wine glass with my wand and duplicate it, fill both, and hand him one. "To having a sexy man in your study," I say, tapping my glass to his.

"Where is he, I'll kill him." I laugh, take the wine glass out of his hand, put both on my desk. I hook my hands behind his neck and kiss him. His hands slide into my hair, and our kiss deepens. "Hmmm, I don't think I'll ever get enough of this."

"Nor me." His hands stray to the hem of my shirt, and I remember that it wasn't so long ago that we were doing this in his house. "Bed?" I say.

"No. Do you know how many fantasies I've had about you and desks?" I laugh, and he scoops me up and puts me on my desk. After that, I have to admit that it's definitely the most fun I've ever had in my study. We end up just about able to support ourselves, sweaty, naked, and gasping for breath after an orgasm that seemed to start at my toes and burnt it's way through my entire body. My God, I hope those Silencing charms held up. I seem to remember screaming at him to fuck me harder. God.

DPOV

I'm some kind of hideous nervous wreck when the doorbell rings. I felt the shimmer of Hermione's wards going up, and I haven't heard a peep out of her since. I let him in, forgetting I've still got Hermione's spices apron on.

"Nice apron," he says, and I blush. Merlin, why do I blush so bloody easily? He's going to start thinking that's my natural colour soon.

"I've been cooking," I say, somewhat foolishly. "Um, come in." I step back, and he steps inside.

"Hey," he says, smiling. His hands go round my waist, and he pulls me in for a hug, a hug which turns into a kiss, which turns into me fighting not to wrestle him to the ground and just rip his clothes off with my teeth.

"Hey," I say, when he lets go.

"How are you?"

"I'm great," I say, halfway to a coma already. "And you?"

"I'm bloody awesome. Something smells stunning."

"Lasagne. I hope you like it."

"I love it."

"Would you, you know, like a glass of wine? Or we have beer, Coke, juice?"

"I would love a beer." I get him one, pour myself a glass of wine, and he watches me finish the last touches of the dinner. When I shove it in the oven and stand up, he's staring at me.

"What? I got flour on my nose?"

"No."

"Then why are you staring?"

"You confuse the hell out of me, Draco. You're from one of the oldest Pureblood families going, yet you seem so at home in this little cottage with all it's Muggle things. It's like you've been doing it all your life."

"I'm a quick learner, and you know, I'm missing a wand. I had to learn or starve, Hermione wasn't willing to bankroll the entire party."

"Yeah, you had to learn," he says, "but you could have just learnt. You're putting your heart into this."

"It's more rewarding somehow. To know that you did something that you had to really try for, something you had to put some time into. Of course, I do still miss magic. It's just a nice new experience." I blush again when he keeps staring.

"You're pretty incredible."

"Thank you." I take my apron off. "Wait until you taste the lasagne." I take him into the living room, and he immediately holds his arms out to me. We end up bundled together on the couch, and he strokes my face lazily.

"You should know this, for me, is normally the point I'm comfortable with on the sixth or seventh date. I'm not normally so touchy."

"No complaints from me. I can't really comment on how many dates this would take."

"Have you never dated before?"

"Not really _dated_. I had a boyfriend but we had to keep us a secret. We never really went on dates. I mean, we'd meet and talk and have food together, but it all had to be hush-hush." He doesn't say anything to that, and when he does speak, it's unrelated. I guess he just doesn't want to hear about my exes - at least not yet. That's fine with me. I don't really want to hear about his.

"Did you put cheese on the lasagne?"

"Of course. God, please tell me you don't have an allergy."

"I'm fine, I promise," he says, laughing. "Though it might have been funny to keel over."

"That's twisted."

"Thank you." I feel a shimmer in Hermione's wards and so does he. "Your minder has her own company, I would think."

"Probably Blaise. You'd think she'd had her share today, she was with him earlier." "Maybe it's more him not getting enough of her. You never know."

"She is fairly intoxicating," I agree, snuggling a little closer. He tightens his grip on me, and just as I'm getting comfortable, the alarm for the lasagne goes off. I groan, but disentangle myself from him and pad into the kitchen. I pull on oven gloves and take it out of the oven, plating up a decent portion for both of us. We sit at Hermione's breakfast bar, and he digs in. a noise escapes him. "What is it? Is it horrible? You don't have to eat it if it's horrible."

"Draco, calm. It's possibly the most amazing food I've ever eaten."

"OK, that I can't believe."

"No, it's true. My parents were never stunning cooks, and I can barely even manage beans on toast." I stare at him incredulously.

"What do you eat then?"

"I have a lot of ready meals, stuff like that. So this might well be the most amazing."

"Nonsense. What about all the Hogwart's food?" I ask, sceptically.

"Just take the damn compliment," he says, smiling. I shrug, but continue eating anyway. He eats with enthusiasm, and I can well believe the ready-meals line. I think he just inhales most of it.

"There's plenty, if you want another helping - just make sure there's enough to save for Hermione tomorrow." He accepts seconds, presses them on me too and we enjoy our meal in companionable silence.

I get him another beer, and pour myself perhaps the third glass of wine. I'm feeling a little light-headed and very brave. This time, when he opens his arms, I slide myself in facing him, and tangle my legs with his. He doesn't laugh, just makes a quiet hum of appreciation in his throat. I tuck my face into his shoulder; rub my nose along his neck a little. He smells stunning - aftershave and warmth. Taking my courage into my hands, I kiss his neck, just gently, and only once. He pulls me closer, impossibly close, and hooks a finger into the collar of my t-shirt, kissing my neck in return. I feel a slight scrape of stubble, hot breath, and suddenly I remember, fully and in gloriously dizzying detail, exactly how it is to be with a man, intimate, alone. How rough palms mix with smooth skin and how thrilling a scrape of stubble can be against hips, neck, shoulder; how violently arousing it is when chests slide together and hearts can be felt beating.

"If it's too fast, if you don't want -" he starts. He never gets to finish.

"I want." I mutter it, drag my face up from its resting place on his neck and kiss him.

He responds instantly, his hands sliding into my hair, tugging ends that are growing out of their style and already annoying me. He flips us, so my hips cradle his and hands find the hem of my t-shirt. Fingertips dip beneath, finding the skin there to tease and the light touch makes me gasp. So long - it's all I can think as I respond to his kisses. It's been so long since I had this, felt anything like this, so long since I had anyone touch me so intimately. I know the clichés and they all seem pathetic, none of them really describing what it's like to go six years without being kissed and held and touched like if you aren't, you might just disappear entirely. Six years, and now all I need is for fingertips to press against my hip bones and I'm melting all over the place. My mind turns to fog and I concentrate on the man here, hard but yielding to my touch, the man who seems determined to take my clothes off and take me until I can't move.

Bed - we can't have sex on Hermione's couch. I must say it out loud, because he stops kissing me and drags me upright.

"Where is bed?" he demands, rubbing his lips over my throat, pulling my hair so he has access to it. Teeth, teeth now among the softness of his lips, one quick bite to say that he isn't always gentle, one quick bite to say that there is more to him than tenderness.

"Upstairs, first on the right." He drags me up, stumbling past Hermione's two closed doors and I hope with what's left of my power of thought that her Charms hold. Tom bears me down onto my bed, hands running over me as my hands return to his torso, tearing over biceps and feeling the wool of his sweater itch against my forearms. We'll have to do something about that, so I tug until he rises above me, letting me yank it over his head and toss it aside. His shirt follows it quickly and finally I have my hands on skin. Soft, warm skin covering firm muscles and pitted with a few scars. He has a tattoo of some Runes over his left hip, and hazily, as I trace them with my fingertips, I wonder what they say. Too busy responding to his busy mouth to ask, I simply let him take off my own shirt and divest me of my jeans. His lips tear over my stomach, the tip of his tongue teases against my waistband and I shiver under his touch.

"You OK?"

"Don't stop," I whisper, my breath ragged. I feel his lips curve against my hip, and I feel myself start to shake.

It's soft, gentle, he is soft and gentle. When it's done, when we're tangled in each other and barely awake, he kisses my hair. We say nothing, but we both know that we'll probably never be peacefully left. It'll never be this way again.


	44. Chapter 44

HPOV

When Blaise and I wake up the next morning, we go downstairs together, which is how we happen to come across Draco's shirt on the sofa once we've made breakfast. I pick it up and smirk. I go back into the kitchen, and show it to Blaise.

"Which of them does it belong to?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Draco's. He was wearing either this or something very similar last night."

"Well, let's wait for him to come down."

"If he does. He might hide and wait for you to leave."

"When are you back at work?"

"Monday, thank God," I say, fervently. "Just got to get through tomorrow. But I swear, if I have to spend any more time without some form of structure, I might end up killing someone. God knows what's been happening to the department in my absence. It's probably in pieces."

"It is not. Your department is doing very well. All of those reforms are being put through and you left plenty of work for them to get through. There are rumours going round that you did all the preparation and then deliberately left before all the boring paperwork needed to be done."

"Ah yes, deliberately. Definitely deliberately got myself poisoned and then kidnapped. My plan has been discovered." He laughs.

"Do you think we could go up and bother them?"

"No, we could not. You leave them both alone."

"Spoilsport."

"I mean it."

"OK, OK." I extract a definite promise from him, and we sit down to eat. Half way through our eggs, we hear stirring upstairs. I put my finger on my lips to Blaise, and we sit in perfect silence. Voices float down.

"I think they're still asleep. Come on, we can get some breakfast, pick up my shirt before Hermione finds it." Blaise looks at me I pick the shirt off the stool beside me and show it to him. He grins, and I try not to giggle as we hear cautious footsteps on the stairs, "Where is it? Where did you throw it?"

"I don't think I threw it anywhere. I think I just took it off you and dropped it on the floor." Blaise is trying very hard not to look at me, and I study my eggs intently.

"You think?"

"I was somewhat distracted." Oh no, no, I don't need to hear this. Moving silently, I slip down from my stool, and take careful aim with the balled-up shirt. Blaise nods and I throw it. It hits Draco on the side of the head, and Tom starts laughing, which sets Blaise off. I sit back down to my eggs and Draco comes stalking in, indignation in every line of his figure.

"Where's Meg?" Meg jumps off the top of the fridge to land on his head, and we can't help laughing at him. He has a cat on his head, and he just looks ridiculous. Poor Draco.

"Tom, would you like some eggs?" I say, waving my hand at some plates. One flies over and lands at an empty seat, and the eggs begin dishing themselves up.

"Wow," he says, suitably impressed. "I've never see anyone do wandless magic like that before."

"Hermione likes to remind people that she can do serious damage to them with just a snap of her fingers and she likes to do it by moving plates around," Draco says, getting his own plate. The eggs serve him and the pan floats down gently to the top of the oven.

"Nonsense. Everything I know about kitchen magic, I learnt from Molly Weasley."

Later, when Tom and Blaise have both left - to save Tom from any potential reporters, I told him to depart by Floo - and I've reactivated all my wards, I manage to corner Draco.

"So?" I demand, smiling at him.

"So what?"

"You know well and good what." When he continues to look aggravatingly blank, I poke him in the ribs. "Was it good?"

"I had a lovely night, thank you," he says, in a dignified voice. I look at him.

"Oh, alright, don't tell me about it." I say, knowing full well he wants to talk about it. I go into my study and start working on what I ended up completely abandoning when Blaise got here. Not five minutes later, he wanders in and boosts himself up onto my desk.

"Go on then."

"Did you both enjoy dinner?"

"Yes, it came out very well. We saved you some too."

"Oh, thank you. So, when he got here, what did you do?"

"We were on the sofa. Together, and there was cuddling."

"Oh, that's sweet! So, then you had dinner? Then what?"

"Is it really that interesting to you?"

"It is really that interesting to me."

"Oh, all right. So, we ate dinner, I had wine, he had a couple of beers, and then we went back to the sofa. There was more cuddling, and then cuddling turned into kissing and neck nuzzling and it was just - arg."

"Oh, I know that feeling! I assume this is about when your shirt came off?" He blushes furiously, and nudges me with his leg.

"I forgot about it. Yes, that is when my shirt came off, and round about the point we retired to my bedroom - I didn't think you'd appreciate it if we had sex on your couch."

"I appreciate that you knew that."

"And then we did it."

"Oh my God! Like all the way it? How was it, is he good?"

"He's really good. Like, so good. I mean, you know how most of the time, people are really, really good at one thing, but rather lacklustre at another? Not so Tom." I gape at him.

"Lucky you." He raises his eyebrows at me.

"Pfft, don't give me that, Blaise had quite the reputation."

"It's justified. He is very good. His hands in particular are very good."

"Hermione, you might want to know every detail about Tom, and I might be comfortable sharing that with you, but I don't need to know how good or not good Blaise might be in bed."

"Not just in bed," I say, drifting my eyes to the desk. He looks down too, and a look of revolted comprehension dawns. He jumps down.

"On your desk? Oh, I've been sitting here, why didn't you say something?!"

"It's not that bit of it, it was more right in front of me."

"Still. Well, at least we both had fun, right?"

"Oh yes. Now, Teddy should be here soon -" Right on cue, there's a ring at the bell, and I dash downstairs to let in Harry, a harassed looking Ginny and an excited Teddy.

"Auntie Hermione!" I pick him up and give him a kiss and a cuddle. His hair is pink today, and I'm reminded forcefully of Tonks, bubblegum pink hair in spikes, making her nose change shape.

"Hello, baby. Have you been behaving?" His hair starts changing colour, and I know what that means. "Oh dear."

"_Only_ runned away and chased the ducks," he mutters, burying his head in my shoulder.

"Oh dear. You're not to run away, you know that. Did you say sorry to Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny?" He huddles closer. "Now, that's not nice. You must say sorry, sweetie." He looks at me, and I try and look stern. He heaves a little sigh, and looks over at Harry and Ginny, who make gallant efforts and get rid of the smiles.

"I'm sorry for running off. And for scaring the ducks."

"That's OK little man," Harry says.

"Thank you, baby," Ginny says, smiling. I kiss him.

"Good boy. Now, do you want to meet a new person and a cat?" He nods eagerly.

"Draco!" I call, carrying Teddy through to the living room. "Come meet our baby, bring Meg!" He advances down the stairs slowly, Meg in his arms. Teddy wriggles, and I put him down, watch him walk over to Draco. He stands in front of him solemnly, looking up at him with all a six-year-olds blind trust.

"Who are you?"

"Um - I'm living with Auntie Hermione."

"Oh. Are you her husband, like Grandad and Grandma?" I smile, and Ginny makes a gallant effort not to laugh.

"No," Draco says, smiling. "I'm just her friend. And anyway, I don't like ladies like Grandad does. I like men." Teddy considers this. You can almost see the little wheels turning.

"So - are you somebody's wife?" he asks. Ginny loses it. She hurries into the kitchen, but we still hear her laughter through the door.

"No," Draco says, his smile widening. "I'm just a man who likes men." teddy thinks about this too, and smiles.

"OK. Is that your cat?" A six year old's acceptance - hell, why am I wanting to cry?

"Yes. This is Meg. You can pet her, but she's very little, so you have to be gentle, OK?"

"I will, I'll be careful." Draco puts Meg into his little arms, and Meg meows. "She's so little!" He pets her delightedly, and she seems to love it. "Soft."

It's a fairly boisterous afternoon, and eventually Teddy falls asleep on the sofa, tired out by the general activity, and Harry picks him up gently.

"Andromeda will love this," he says in a low voice. "We brought him back still going last time and she was _not _pleased. This should make her happy." I hug Ginny, blow Harry a kiss, and Draco and I call it an early night.


	45. Chapter 45

HPOV

My first day back at work is a mixture of relief, interruptions and memos. I'm so pleased to be back, I step out of the fireplace with Draco without thinking about the stir I'll cause. We've hardly gone two steps before we're surrounded by people who want to wish me well.

"Welcome back, Miss Granger, welcome back!"

"Thank you Angela."

"Hermione, so nice to see you're feeling better!"

"Indeed I am, Michael, thank you."

"Hermione, good to have you back," Seamus says, falling into step beside me. "Draco. I'll be sending you a memo, later, Hermione. Got to discuss that Firewhiskey law of yours."

"Wasn't mine. It's five hundred odd years old, I just reintroduced it. But alright, I'll see what my schedule looks like."

"Good." We make the lifts, and the attendant apparently takes pity, as he closes the doors before anyone can join us and takes us straight up to my office.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Granger," he says, letting us out.

"Thank you," I say, and smile at him as I get out. Draco follows me, and takes advantage of our empty corridor to tease me about the outpouring of affection. He only stops when I threaten to lend him to the Department of Magical Creatures and tell him that I think they have some Blast-Ended Skrewts running around down there. Anna jumps out of her chair when she sees me.

"Hermione!"

"Hello Anna, how are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you? I mean, are you better?"

"Very much so, thank you Anna. Do I have plenty of work?"

"Oh yes. The Department of Magical Creatures sent you this - I think they want to pass a law about Doxy breeding."

"A law about Doxy breeding? Is that really my job? I thought this department was intended to fix the aftermath of the war and fix Hogwarts."

"That's what I said to them, but they seemed pretty insistent."

"In that case, I suppose I should see the Minister. Could you make me an appointment?"

"No need. He sent me this memo, he's coming down to see you after lunch. Two o'clock."

"Ah, very well. Well, Anna, I'd better knuckle down. Borrow Draco when you want him."

"Charming. You are charming," he protests. I laugh at him, and finally settle back into my office with a sigh of relief.

By the time Kingsley walks in for our meeting, I've settled back in wonderfully.

"You look right at home."

"You're damn right I do," I say, looking up with a smile for him. I put my quill down and wave my wand over the parchment I was scribbling on to dry the ink properly before setting it aside. "I assume you're here to tell me why the Magical Creatures floor seems to think it's my job to introduce laws about Doxy breeding."

"Indeed I am." He sits himself down in my desk chair, after dumping several scrolls of parchment and two or three books onto the floor. "We're changing your department slightly. It's been widely decided that we need a specialist law department. As you know, in the past, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was responsible for signing laws into practice, while the various departments detailed what laws they wanted. But we think we've come up with a better system. From now on, the Department for Educational and Legal Reform will become the Legal Department. You'll finish up the reforms and then change over officially. The general idea is that the departments send you suggestions of laws they'd like passed - like this Doxy breeding business. I believe the gist is that they want to make it legal for the careful breeding of Doxies to begin. They simply send a reason why they want it to be, and you and your department get going on the research and then you accept or reject it as you choose."

"Was I ever going to be consulted about this?"

"No. But you have a choice. I am aware that this is not the job I hired you to do. I'm sure that should you choose to leave the department, there would be a whole host of positions available to you. The Wizengamot are actively wanting you, I know."

"You know I've been offered Hogwarts."

"I know it. I won't tell you it wouldn't be a bitter loss to us if you went over there."

"Good lord, Kingsley, I'm not going over to the Dark." He smiles.

"I know. I'd still consider it a loss though." He sits back. "Would it make you the youngest Headmistress in history?"

"Yes. And I'll be honest, Kingsley, I'm not sure I want it. The Head of Hogwarts involves a great deal of work, especially as the school sits outside the Ministry control. Syllabuses would need reviewing, and I need to do that before Africa. I mean, I could do it. But it's a lot of work."

"The amount of work wouldn't stop you. When do you need to have made the decision by?"

"Easter. That's when the Governors want my answer. So I will be here until then. Which is good, as it gives me a chance to decide whether I like this better."

"So you'll stay with this department?"

"Yes. Definitely until Easter, then possibly until August. Perhaps longer. But I'll stay with this department now. When do we officially change over?"

"The beginning of February. But people are allowed to start submitting now. My suggestion is to delegate what's left of your current workload, and get on with the change-over. But then again, when have you ever taken any of my suggestions?" he says, smiling.

"I took this job," I say dryly. He laughs, and stands up.

"Well, I have to get going. I'm busy."

"Speaking of busy, I need an appointment with you."

"Closed door?"

"Closed door, no coffee. A formal appointment."

"Alright. I'll have Michael make you one and send Anna a message. Do you have anything pre-arranged I should avoid?"

"No. Thank you Kingsley."

He leaves, and I start working on this Doxy business. I end up sending Draco to Magical Creatures anyway, because I need more information on it. Why anybody would want to breed household pests is beyond me, unless they plan to start training the things - Muggles breed rats and mice as pets, after all. And I really don't think there's a market to have a Doxy as a pet. I can foresee sending Draco to a lot of places in order to get more information as people get used to this new system, but really, how difficult can it be to provide more information than "We want to breed Doxies."

Blaise drops by during my lunch break. He tells Anna she can go for her own lunch, then proceeds to lock and ward my office.

"And what are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm just here to see you."

"Since when did that require a Silencing Charm?"

"Oh, you know, since it's been two days since I saw you naked."

"My goodness, two whole days. However have you coped?"

"Not well."

"Well, you're out of luck. I'm not having sex with you in this office and besides which, even if I wanted to, I am very busy. My department's entire function is changing and I have this form about Doxy breeding."

"Who the hell wants to breed Doxies? And why?"

"Magical Creatures. And don't ask me why, nobody seems to have told me that yet. I sent Draco to ask them. So no, Blaise, I will not have sex with you in my office."

"I don't remember saying I wanted to have sex with you. I just said it was two days since I'd seen you naked."

"So essentially what you want is for me to take my clothes off."

"Yes."

"And that's all you want?"

"Well, we could play it by ear, see where it gets us.

"Nice try, but no deal. However," I say, standing up and grabbing my bag, "you may take me to lunch in the canteen."

"Is that as good as it gets?"

"Well, you could come home with me after work. But if you have plans -"

"I have no plans." Draco ends up joining us for lunch, and when Tom comes in and spots him, he comes over too and it ends up being the four of us together. It's fun, at first, and we joke and laugh and reminisce about Draco's face when that shirt hit him in the head. But while we're finishing our meals and as I become almost positive that Draco and Tom might be holding hands under the table, I become aware that we're being watched. Sure enough, as I raise my teacup to my mouth and look around, I make contact with eyes that immediately move away, and some that still stare, unabashed by meeting mine.

"People are staring," I say. Tom shrugs, although Draco looks uncomfortable and confirms my suspicions when he attempts to move his arm and fails.

"Let them," Tom says, bluntly. "What do I care?"

"I care," Draco says, looking worried. He finally succeeds in freeing himself. "Don't, Tom. Leave it. I care that they're staring because of me. We're not doing this, tom. It was fun, Merlin knows it was fun. _But it can't happen."_ Ignoring Tom's wild protest, he gets up and exits swiftly. I look at Tom, reading the panic in his eyes.

"I'll go," I say, jumping up. I hurry out, leaving Blaise with Tom.


	46. Chapter 46

HPOV

When I get out into the corridor, Draco is already out of sight. Cursing colourfully under my breath, I pick a direction and bolt down it. I pass an Unspeakable, and grab him.

"Have you seen Draco Malfoy?"

"Yeah, he shot past me a couple minutes ago."

"Where was he going?"

"He went into the toilets."

"On this floor?"

"Yeah - but it's the gents!" he shouts after me. I come up to the toilets, bang once on the door, and then march in. A Magical Maintenance worker looks outraged.

"Get out," I snap. He evidently thinks better of arguing with me, and scuttles off. I step up to the only locked cubicle, and bang on the door. "Malfoy, get out here."

"This is the men's toilet, Hermione."

"So?"

"So get out."

"No. Come out, please, I want to talk to you and I won't do it through a toilet door. And I'd rather not do it here, it stinks. Come along, please, I'm tired of waiting."

"I'm not a child."

"Well, you're bloody acting like one." There's a silence, which stretches into discomfort. "Draco, either you open this door, or I will open it myself, and that'll be far more embarrassing for you than this already is. You think people don't know I'm shouting at you in a bathroom?" There's a brief pause, and then the lock slides back. There are tears on his cheeks,

"I was selfish to get involved with him. I had no right to do this to him."

"Draco, you have the right to have happiness, you have the right to be with him. Hiding in a bathroom won't stop people gossiping. If you did this now or waited fifty damn years, people would still talk. You can't be alone forever."

"I can be, and I should be. Nobody should be exposed to the kind of shadow I trail in my wake like a cloak. And you're right, Hermione, it will never go away. It will never stop, so I can never have another man. The memory of Fred will be enough to keep me now. It must be enough."

"It does not have to be. I will not let you shrink under misery of your own making. I will not let you make yourself unhappy. Now, you're going to come back to my office and we are going to finish the day's work. Because, Draco," I say, firmly, "nothing will silence them more than you appearing unperturbed by them. Wash your face." He stares at me. "Draco, I know you think I'm terribly cold hearted and calculating."

"No, I think you're like Blaise, who would say that the face you present to the world says a lot more that the face you hide."

"Huh, that was basically it."

"I don't like that Blaise is rubbing off on you to this extent." But he washes his face, and I put a Glamour Charm on him to hide the rest. When I get back to the office with him, Anna has a message from Kingsley, saying he can see me today, at two. I glance at my watch, realise that that's in five minutes and tell Draco to take a nap in my office. I tell Anna not to disturb him and manage to make the meeting only a minute late.

"Hermione, have a seat," he says, waving at the chair. I shut the door, and take it. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"I want to discuss either the pardoning, or the lessening of the sentence, of Draco Malfoy." Kingsley sits back in his chair and looks at me.

"That isn't my decision and nor is it in my power."

"It is if you organise an appeal," I say, calmly. "I have people who would speak in his defence. Ron and Harry would stand up, Ginny would. I would. At the very least we should give him back his wand for at least certain periods. He's not even earning a wage. I'm paying him a wage, but the point is that we should."

"What exactly do you want here?"

"Anything up to and including a full pardon."

"His probation was set at a year -"

"Yes, but in the last four months he's saved my life, saved other lives, or have you forgotten the Newt and Eye? He will carry that scar forever, and he's wearing that scar a hell of a lot easier than he ever wore the Dark Mark. He's doing better than anyone ever thought. I want you to call a hearing."

"Does he know about this?"

"You mean, did he ask for it? No, Kingsley, he did not. He doesn't know I'm here."

"Any hearing would be before the Wizengamot. I warn you, if I decide to call it, it won't be easy. You'd need a good strong case."

"So you won't do it?"

"Not yet. Now, Hermione, hear me out. Go and assemble a good case. Get your witnesses together, tell Draco. He'll need to be able to defend himself. If you get a good case, and I think it has a good chance, I will call the appeal and inform the Wizengamot. But I won't let you or Draco in for this unless I think you have a good chance. And you seriously need to be aware - and I mean this, Hermione - that no matter what you say, people will say that Draco wanted this. People will say bad things and the press will have a field day. And Draco must be made aware of the potential consequences. If he is unwilling to go through it, you can't make him. And without him, you don't have a case."

"Thank you, Kingsley."

"I'm not making you any promises, Hermione. You need to understand that unless what you bring me is basically watertight, I won't pass it, because I won't let you in for unnecessary harassment from the press and members of the public."

"Alright. I'll get it done, and it'll be on your desk by Friday." My next stop is running down to Tom. When I get to his office, the girl in the next cubicle over tells me that he isn't back from lunch yet. I sigh, and go back down to the canteen. They aren't still there, in fact, nobody is. I'm guessing he's still with Blaise, so I ask after him and not Tom, and finally get directed down to the third floor, because apparently that's where they're both hiding.

I eventually track them both down to a niche where I think a statue probably once was. I'd have missed them if I didn't suddenly have an earful of a buzzing sound. I stop, and stare hard at the apparently empty niche.

"I know you're both in there," I announce. "Harry, Ron and I cast _Muffliato_ enough for me to know it when I hear it." The pair are suddenly visible.

"You're too bloody clever, Granger," Blaise growls, yanking me in.

"That hurt."

"Poor baby."

"Tom?" I ask, looking at him. "I spoke to Draco. He's in pretty bad shape, but I'm here to tell you not to let him force you away."

"As if I would."

"The thing is Tom, he's pretty determined too. And right now he's pretty adamant. Youneed to be as determined."

"If he wants to push me away so badly, can I really hold against that?"

"Do you care about him?"

"I don't know to what extent."

"But you care?"

"Of course."

"Then either you refuse to let him push you away, and or you let him walk away. Pick one. Now, I'm not sitting in this niche any more, I can already feel my legs cramping up. I have to go now, because I, apparently unlike you two, have work to be getting on with." I scramble out, none too gracefully. Tom jumps out after me, and Blaise follows him. They go in one direction, I go in the other.

When I get back into my office, I'm feeling vaguely nauseous. I put it down to running around all over the bloody place - after double checking I haven't been poisoned again - and decide I'm spending the rest of the afternoon sitting down. I don't care if Voldemort himself rises again, I'm spending the afternoon sitting down.


End file.
